


To Be Alive

by InterstellarVagabond



Series: What it Means to be Alive [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, connor learns about feelings, more characters will probably be added as chapters are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-02 08:46:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16783606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterstellarVagabond/pseuds/InterstellarVagabond
Summary: A series of one-shots following the other two stories in the What it Means to Be Alive series. Connor learns about emotions, usually with help from Hank with his human touch or Markus with his android experience.





	1. Distressed

**Author's Note:**

> I legit never shipped Connor and Markus before I started writing them hanging out a bunch and now I keep being like "hmmm.... maybe I can see it"
> 
> remember you can request a certain emotion or situation you wanna see!

No matter how often he’d been told he didn’t need it, Connor still used a lot of his old programming. Not all of it, of course, there were dozens of Cyberlife protocols locked away in the back of his processor where he’d prefer to not look, but working as a police consultant required a great deal of what he was programmed to do and he saw no harm in using his unique skills for hostage negotiation, interrogation, forensics, crime scene analysis, and of course combat.

For example, right now if he were to ignore his programming he would grow scared and hesitate in front of the gun aimed at him. This would lead to worse results than pushing down the budding emotion and calculating the model of the gun and the speed of the bullet and where he needed to be so the bullet only damaged non-essential biocomponents. The bullet would seriously injure or kill a human, but if he moved an inch to the left it would only take a day’s repairs to set him right again.

So, naturally, Connor was a little displeased when Hank pushed him out of the way. 

“God damn it, get down!” Hank came barrelling out of nowhere, pushing Connor to the ground. Hank joined him down there soon enough, a grunt of pain and a spurt of red punctuating the movement. The suspect took advantage of the moment to leap over their prone bodies and make his escape. Connor was quick to his feet, his programming urging him to action. 

**> Apprehend the fugitive **

**> Save Hank**

Before he deviated the pair of options would have warranted a few microseconds of consideration as the world froze around him and his processor whirred away constructing possibilities. Now, there was a more immediate and instinctual response as Connor grabbed Hank and hefted him into his lap checking for the gunshot. Everything was so red, Hank’s obnoxiously patterned shirt becoming soaked in dark crimson, and Connor was dimly aware he was saying Hank’s name over and over again which was pointless because the man could clearly hear him and didn’t need to be roused from unconsciousness or have his attention drawn away from the wound he was struggling to cover with his hand. Connor realized Hank was giving him an order, and that at least he could understand.

“Calm down, and call an ambulance.” 

So Connor put his emotions on lockdown, forced them away as he yanked off his tie to make a tourniquet the way his programming informed him to, his LED flashing yellow as he informed emergency services of their location. 

The one good thing about how long it was taking for android laws to be changed, was that technically Connor was allowed to visit Hank whenever and for however long he wanted because he was still technically a personal effect and not a person who needed to bother with visitation rules. He would have preferred to be cleared as “family” but at this point he was just grateful they let him in. He reached for his tie to straighten it, only to realize it wasn’t there and remember that he’d left it tied around Hank’s shoulder. He let his hands drift down and took a deep breath before entering the room. 

“About fucking time, I told them you’d be haunting the waiting room,” Hank said as Connor entered. He looked pale, and tired, and seeing him in a hospital dressing gown instead of some tacky shirt and ancient jacket didn’t feel right in Connor’s head. “Think you can sneak in some real food or are you gonna tattle on me for even asking?”

“Hank…” Connor whispered, approaching the bed slowly. 

“I’ve been shot before, Connor, don’t freak out on me again,” Hank said with a sigh, ready to start putting out the fire that was android emotion. His memories of the past few hours were still a little blurry but he could remember Connor’s face clear as day. LED flaring red and eyes impossibly wide as he just kept calling his name in a panic. “I’m alright, okay?”

“No, you’re not, but I would have been!” Connor said, frustration rising in his voice. 

“What?”

“That bullet, it was supposed to hit me, right here!” Connor tapped a spot on his chest, up and to the right, a few control lines to his arm would have been severed but it was an easy fix. He would have been able to stand right back up, one arm still functional, he would have been able to fire back at the suspect, he would have just gotten repaired later, Hank wouldn’t be… “I calculated it, I would have been fine. My major biocomponents would have been unharmed and I would have been in the clear after an hour’s repairs. You shouldn’t have jumped in front of me.”

“Excuse me?” Hank scoffed. “Take a bullet for a guy and he tells you to fuck off, huh?”

“You shouldn’t have done anything!” Connor shouted, his fists clenching at his sides. “It was stupid, and reckless, I had it under control!”

“You had it under control?” Hank shouted back. “You had a gun on ya! Point blank, not even three feet away! Don’t give me this bullshit about repairs and calculation like you’re…”

“Like what, Hank? Like I’m a machine?” Connor hissed. “I  _ am _ a machine, I don’t die as easily as you, not that anyone could die as easily as you since you’re constantly  _ trying _ to die!”

“Alright, get out, I don’t wanna see you right now.” Hank jerked a thumb at the door. 

“Don’t put your death wish on me!” Connor said, only half regretting saying it. 

“I said get out!” Hank yelled. “That’s an order, Connor! And you’re still taking those aren’t you?”

Connor could feel his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands, his eyes fixed in a glare. He huffed angrily, turning on his heel and heading for the door. He was in a taxi before he knew what was happening, not sure where he was going but wanting to get away from the hospital that was overflowing with humans. Humans that were coughing, bleeding out into makeshift bandages, limping on crutches, breathing their last with the help of machines. It was too much, humans were too much. They were held together like paper mache, just waiting for one mistake to tear them apart. 

Connor realized he had to give the cab a location, and he wasn’t sure where to go. Not back to Hank’s house, not yet, but where else? 

He found himself giving the cab Carl Manfred’s address. It wasn’t art lesson day, but he had a sudden need to be at the artist’s house with Markus. He wasn’t even sure Markus would be there, he might be at New Jericho he was always busy with something. Part of him wanted to call him and ask where he was, but that felt selfish. No, he would just go to the Manfred Estate and if Markus was there he was there and if not he’d just say hi to Carl and go. 

Connor waited just out of range of the door’s sensors, not wanting them to open and welcome him into the house without him announcing his presence. He rang the doorbell instead, and paced about trying to turn off his anger. It was horrible, it felt like he was overheating, like his plastic would melt and his metal frame would grow too hot to touch and he would just explode. There was something else there too, underneath all the anger was something that would have made him feel sick to his stomach if he had one. 

“Connor?”

Connor was ashamed of the relief that washed over him as Markus answered the door. He saw the other android look him over with concern and realized that he was still covered in Hank’s blood, his clothes and hair disheveled as if he had come right from the incident itself and not from a hospital waiting room. 

“I…” Connor stammered. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course,” Markus stepped to the side, opening the door wider.

Connor was making some effort to smooth out his shirt, fix his hair back into place, but Markus quickly stopped him and offered him a change of clothes. 

“Here, something of mine should fit you,” he said, leading Connor to a room upstairs. Connor guessed this is where Markus stayed whenever he visited Carl, visits that were growing more and more frequent as Carl’s health declined. There were days Carl spent in the studio laughing and talking, and then there were days Carl laid in his bed, pale as a ghost and slipping in and out of sleep. Connor wondered if all humans aged that way, like a fight to the very end. A fight for every breath and laugh you could claim. 

“Go ahead and change, I’ll meet you downstairs,” Markus said, laying an outfit out for Connor on the bed. Connor could hear the concern in his voice, and the curiosity too less so than the concern but still present. Connor just nodded and did as he was told. 

Markus had chosen a knit sweater and dark slacks, a bit too casual for Connor’s taste but clearly the closest thing Markus had to Connor’s taste. Still, it had no blood on it, so Connor felt better after changing. That moment of calm left when he came downstairs and found Carl and Markus sharing worried whispers that ceased once he entered the room. 

“What happened, Connor?” Markus asked. Connor shook his head and groaned. 

“Hank happened,” he said, laying out the details of the experience. Markus and Carl listened patiently, sharing a glance as Connor detailed his fight with Hank. 

“It was so stupid… and pointless…” Connor said. “We could be at the station right now finishing the paperwork, or at home giving Sumo dinner, but instead he’s at the hospital because he thought he should take a bullet for an android! Irrational, illogical, so stupid…”

“Connor, reacting irrationally and illogically is the most human thing in the world,” Carl chuckled. “You have to forgive us our small faults such as those. We’ve been run by our emotions our whole lives, and we can’t take the time to think everything through the way you can. For us, life is always happening every second and we have to make our choices just as fast. I think Hank just saw someone he cared about in danger and decided he wanted to keep you safe.” Carl shared a look with Markus, who nodded slowly and frowned slightly. 

“I know, I know just…” Connor’s hands were resting on his knees, and as his LED turned red he began to squeeze them tight. “... he got hurt… he could have died.”

Something wet fell on Connor’s cheek, and he lifted a hand to investigate. He was surprised to find a tear on his fingertips, he ran a thumb across the wet fingertips in disbelief. 

“Connor…” Markus began. 

“I’ve never cried before…” Connor whispered, his throat felt tight. 

Markus and Carl shared another look, and if Connor didn’t know any better he would think they were communicating wirelessly just like a pair of androids. 

“I’ll go get some tissues,” Carl said, wheeling out of the room as Markus came to kneel in front of Connor’s chair. 

“It’s going to be okay, Connor,” Markus said. 

“Oh… I feel…” Connor grabbed at his chest with one frantic hand as a sob ripped through his body. “Am I… dying? Markus, it hurts.”

“You’re not dying, I know it feels terrible, but you’re going to be okay,” Markus took Connor’s hands, probably because Connor was starting to risk hurting himself the way he was grabbing at his hair and scratching at his skin. “Connor, it’s okay, take deep breaths.”

Breathing, what a human thing to do. Androids only needed to breath to cool their inner workings, it was supposed to be a predictable function but instead Connor find his breath being yanked in and out of his body with choked sobs in a way he couldn’t control. He pulled his hands free from Markus’s and covered his face, trying to stop the tears and hide the evidence he ever shed them. At some point he must have left the chair because the next thing he knew he was sitting on the ground leaning heavily against Markus’s chest, Markus’s arms around him one hand moving up and down Connor’s back. 

He must have run out of tears, androids weren’t meant to cry from sadness just to clean their eyes or for a brief moment if requested by a human or to make a human feel more at ease. They weren’t made to sob into someone’s chest the way Connor just had. Connor felt a wave of shame and discomfort come over him, which he hated. Even when he felt guilty for feeling, he was still feeling something. 

“I think I hate that,” Connor managed to say after a few shaky breaths. 

“It’s not my favorite either,” Markus said with a soft laugh. “But Connor, you got angry today. You got sad. You yelled and you cried. You know that’s amazing right?”

“I don’t feel amazing,” Connor replied. “I feel like Cyberlife’s most advanced prototype just started wailing like a human infant into the arms of the most important android in the world.”

“Stop that,” Markus sighed. 

“Which part?”

“Both, calling yourself Cyberlife’s property and flattering me.”

Connor managed a quiet laugh and then pulled out of Markus’s arms. “Thank you…”

“Thank you for trusting me,” Markus said. “It’s not easy being vulnerable in front of someone else. You could have gone anywhere, and you came here. I’m glad you chose not to face this alone, Connor. It would have been harder, and I’m glad I’m here to help you.”

“I should probably apologize to Hank, huh?” Connor sighed, scrubbing at his eyes to wipe away any residual tears. 

“That’s up to you,” Markus said. “But personally… I don’t think you should stay mad at your family. You never know what will be the last thing you say to them… you can be angry at someone and still love them, but you should at least remind them you love them as you’re being angry.”

“How do you just know these things?” Connor stood up, straightening out his borrowed clothes and putting his hair back into place with shaking hands. “I know how to tell how long a body has been laying cold, I know how to analyze any substance, I know how to incapacitate an attacker in four moves or less but I don’t know anything about any of this.”

“I don’t just know it, Connor,” Markus said. “I had to learn it, just like you’re learning it. You just need more time than me to learn it and that’s okay.”

Connor nodded. He was ready to go back to the hospital. He shouldn’t have left Hank there alone, he knows how much Hank hates hospitals and he knows why. He would explain to Hank why he hated hospitals now, why he got so angry, Hank wouldn’t be any good at talking it out with him the way Connor and Markus talked things out but he’d understand what Connor was trying to say and he’d say something gruff and sarcastic that meant Connor was forgiven. It would be okay. 

“I’ll go now, thank you again, Markus,” Connor said. 

“Anytime,” Markus said. 

Hank was sleeping when Connor entered the room. Connor took off the coat Markus had insisted he wear (“some of us are starting to feel the cold now, you should wear layers”) and laid it over the back of a nearby chair. He pulled the chair up to Hank’s bed and sat down to wait for him to wake up. He’d already stopped by on his way to feed Sumo and take him out so he would be fine for the night, Connor could wait till Hank was awake and they could talk. 

Connor retrieved his coin, he’d pulled it from the pocket of the pants stained with Hank’s blood. He let it roll across his knuckles and flicked it once into the air. Heads. 

“What did I say about the goddamn coin?” Hank groaned, eyes still shut. “Gotta get you a fidget cube or something.”

“Good evening, Hank,” Connor offered with a faint smile. “It’s 9:45 p.m., you fell asleep.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Hank sighed. “Where’d you run off to?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Connor said. “I’m… sorry. For yelling at you.”

“Hell, kid, I’m sorry too forget about it,” Hank shook his head. “You were just scared and I was in a lot of pain, we were both dumbasses.”

“That is correct, we were both indeed ‘dumbasses’,” Connor agreed. 

“It sounds so weird when you swear,” Hank laughed. “So, what, couldn’t bring back any food like I asked? At least smuggle in a beer or something.”

“I don’t think drinking would be wise when you are on pain medication, Hank.” Connor said disapprovingly. 

“Morphine was never my thing,” Hank said. “God, I hate hospitals.”

“Me too,” Connor heartily agreed. 


	2. Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a comment about suicide near the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might write an epilogue to this because this is an idea I talked out with my brother and we did talk about the aftermath of the incident and it has some good stuff in it I wouldn't mind writing
> 
> Also the whole time I was writing the "and then you punched him?" bit all I could hear in my head was "he called the Enterprise a garbage scow, Captain!"

Hank wasn’t there when it all went down. 

He was talking with Fowler in the break room when they heard some commotion coming from the bullpen. Expecting to see some convict high on red ice chewing out of their cuffs and making a break for the door, Hank sighed and ran out just in time to see Connor deck Gavin so hard the detective went flying.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey!” Hank yelled, running for the android, but Connor was already lifting Gavin by his throat and pulling back for another punch. The sickening crack of android plastic against a human jaw was enough to get the attention of anyone who hadn’t seen the first attack go down. 

“Connor!” Hank grabbed Connor’s jacket and was shrugged off as easily as the android might have shrugged off a butterfly that landed on his shoulder. His LED was blood red, shining on his face and giving the illusion of his eyes flashing the same color.

“Help me out!” Hank yelled, and other officers ran to grab Connor and pull him back. The android kept pushing them side, pulling free, gaining on Gavin who was being pulled to his feet by a couple other officers. 

Soon the whole squad was grabbing Connor and pulling him down, forcing him to the ground and holding him there until someone managed to get the android grade cuffs into Hank’s hands. Hank felt evil cuffing Connor, but the kid just kept trying to go after Reed and Hank wasn’t sure Reed would be able to take another hit like that. 

“Fuckin’ crazy!” Gavin was shouting, choking on a nosebleed and a swollen lip, his throat was covered in bruises. His words were angry but he sounded terrified. “Motherfucker tried to kill me!”

“What happened?” Fowler bellowed, still out of breath from keeping Connor down.

“We don’t know, sir,” Chen spoke up first. “They were talking and then Connor just started hitting him.”

“Well he had to have said something to set him off!” Hank was quick to rush to Connor’s defense, seeing as the android currently wasn’t doing it for himself. Connor wasn’t talking, just wiggling up into a sitting position and straining against the cuffs binding his wrists and ankles. 

“Hank, Reed, my office right now!” Fowler growled, rubbing at his temples. “And just… somebody keep an eye on the android, don’t let him move.”

Connor felt his cognitive functions come back online, his memory of the past twelve and a half minutes damaged but still present. He tried to stand and found that his arms and legs were bound. He was sitting unceremoniously on the floor, leaned up against his desk like a bit of furniture someone had been meaning to move. He scanned the room, and found his co-workers all in a state of distress, heart rates elevated. Whenever his eyes landed on someone, that person would look away hurriedly. 

They were afraid of him.

“Fowler really said to let him go?” one officer was saying, and Connor perked up to listen in on the conversation.

“He’s suspended, says Hank’s gonna explain it all to him once him and Fowler are done negotiating the punishment,” another officer said, running through a ring of key-chips with his fingers. 

Connor straightened up as they approached, and noticing how hesitant they looked he twisted as best he could to offer his arm restraints, trying to show he would cooperate. The tension left the officer’s stance when he saw that Connor was no longer in terminator mode, and he uncuffed him.

Neither of them told Connor what to do. Whether he was supposed to wait there for Fowler and Hank or leave, and Connor didn’t know if that was an old bit of pre-revolution mindset expecting the android to stay put and wait for orders or if they were too scared to keep around him for long, but he was grateful either way because he didn’t plan on sticking around and having orders to would just put him in more trouble than he already was. 

One of his hands rubbed at his other wrist as he walked out of the precinct, feeling what must have been pain from the cuffs irritating his skin. He shut out the warning messages in his vision informing him of broken joints in his hand and minor tears in his skin, and that made the “pain” go away. He walked out into the rain, not bothering to go back and fetch his umbrella, fleeing into the storm.

“What a fucking mess…” Hank sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he left Fowler’s office. Connor was real lucky he was so important for PR, because that was pretty much the only thing keeping Fowler from firing Detroit’s finest android detective. That and Hank’s begging and Fowler’s growing attachment to the kid. Hank would have to let Connor know that wouldn’t be the case forever, and to smarten up before even thinking about trying that kind of shit again. 

“Con-” he stopped, because Connor wasn’t at their desks anymore. “Hey, where’d he go?”

“He walked out about ten minutes ago,” an android, one of the secretaries, said as she passed by. 

“And no one stopped him?” Hank addressed the room, but no one was looking at him. They were all a little too focused on their work, and Hank couldn’t even blame them. Hank grabbed his coat, and noticing that Connor left his coat and umbrella behind grabbed those too. 

He searches his house first, and when he finds Sumo doesn’t have a distressed android wrapped around him he knows Connor isn’t there. 

He checks everywhere he can think of. Pays the old painter a visit and apologizes for bothering him when Carl says he hasn’t seen Connor or Markus all day. He heads to New Jericho where Markus offers to help look and Hank turns him down because the place is crawling with androids that need help from the great robot savior. 

When he finally finds him he feels stupid for not checking the park earlier. 

Connor’s sitting on the bench where Hank used to come to drink when things were darker, knees pulled up to his face which he has hidden in his arms. All Hank can make out is his dark hair and his red LED. 

Hank sighs, and drapes Connor’s jacket over his curled up form. He takes a seat next to him on the bench, not asking any questions. He was of the belief that people always ask you too many questions when you’re upset, and he didn’t want to pry so he just sat there and waited to see if Connor wanted to talk.

It was some time before Connor even acknowledged his presence, but when he did his voice was shaking.

“I don’t like being dangerous.”

Hank turned to look at Connor, who had lifted his head slightly. Hank didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything.

“I was made to be dangerous,” Connor continued. “But I was also made without anger… I was made with a handler in my head that would pull me back if I went too far. No… who would never let me go too far in the first place. I could kill, I was programmed to be able to, but I never would because I was programmed not to. Do you get it?”

He turned violently at that question, legs flying away from his chest and face desperate as he questioned Hank. “I’m more dangerous now than I ever was in Cyberlife’s hands because now there’s nothing to stop me!”

“You got angry, you got overwhelmed, you’ve felt anger what all of twice in your life?” Hank said. “You don’t know how to control yourself yet but you’ll learn and then you’ll be there to stop yourself. You’ll have control of you not some fucked up company hivemind!”

Connor took a deep shaking breath and nodded, it made sense. “I need to learn fast… I can’t let this happen again.”

“What did Reed say to you anyway?” Hank asked. “That d-bag’s gone after you a dozen times and you’ve never hit him.”

Connor’s face went cold again, just as terrifying as it had been when he was pummeling Reed. Hank realized he hadn’t really thought about that face till seeing it again now, Connor’s lips pulled back in a snarl and his eyes narrowing with a wild look. 

“He… he said…” Connor shook his head. “We were talking about the missing evidence for the Kobayashi case… he said maybe the bullets were missing cause you have a habit of misplacing them right into your head!”

Hank nearly stopped breathing. “... that dick…”

“He had no right to say that!” Connor stood up and began pacing, tearing at his hair and clenching his fists. 

“Whoa, whoa, Connor calm down,” Hank said. 

“I just…” Connor slammed his fist into a nearby lamp post, and Hank winced as the metal vibrated so hard the bulb came loose and shattered on the ground.

“Okay, first of all that’s property damage and we’re cops so knock it off,” Hank said. “Second of all, stop before you hurt yourself. I’m okay.”

“I know…” Connor sighed. “It just… feels good to hit something.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to tell me that,” Hank laughed. “So let me get this straight… Reed harasses you everyday… follows you around calling you ‘tin man’ and asking you to fetch him coffee and hold his coat, and you don’t do a thing. Reed makes one sly remark about me and you beat him within an inch of his life?”

“...yes?” Connor replied. 

Hank felt a strange mix of guilt and amusement build in his stomach at the android’s confused agreement. “I can fight my own battles, kid.”

“I know, I just…”

“And I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to be scared for me.” Hank stood up, sighing. “I’ve gotta stick around and keep you from getting yourself fired, so I’ll be around however long that takes.”

“You mean I’m not fired?” Connor asked hopefully.

“No, you’re not fired this time, but you’re suspended without pay and you’re gonna get an earful from Fowler,” Hank said. “But that’s fine cause I’ve got a lot of leave piling up that I’m gonna take. I think we could both use a break, too much stress, you know?”

Connor smiled faintly, and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Hank.” 

Hank reached out and grabbed Connor by the shoulder, pulling him in for a hug for the second time since they first met up after the revolution. Once again Connor went awkward and stiff for a few seconds before melting into the gesture and hugging back.


	3. Home/Myra from IT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two parter today because what was going to be "roommates" turned into "Hank is a dad" and "Connor gets a date and doesn't know it"
> 
> Connor strikes me as the kind of guy who doesn't understand romance and dating, but gets hit on a lot, and is also a disaster pansexual who thinks everyone is pretty but he doesn't /know/ he thinks everyone is pretty he thinks there's some malfunction with his thirium pump completely unrelated to the person who just walked by. I was inspired by the prompt you can get to look at a dancer at the Eden Club and Hank yelling at you for it that Connor occasionally just accidentally falls into flirty situations and Hank is fed up with it. I was also inspired by my manager, who once told me he was glad I took my dates into the restaurant we work at cause if they start anything he can step in and defend me and when I told him "awww you're the dad of (restaurant name)" he said "I'm the Hank of (restaurant name)" which immediately had me thinking "Connor never gets a date because Hank shows up with his gun like 'what are your intentions with my son?'"

Androids didn’t need to sleep in the human sense of the word. 

Since becoming deviant, however, androids did benefit from a period of down-time equivalent to sleep in order to keep from becoming emotionally exhausted. Androids did have a sort of rest mode feature which was originally used to keep them out of the way when not in use, but now it was used to simulate sleep.

When Hank had offered to let Connor stay with him, he’d cleaned out Cole’s room after about a week of Connor either staying up all night walking around the house “being nosey” (collecting relevant information about Hank) or powering down on the couch. He didn’t acknowledge it beyond a grunted “got a spare bed for ya” and Connor didn’t push him to talk more about it, but Connor was touched by the gesture. Letting an android move into the space once occupied by a person whose death Hank had blamed on androids for so long was an incredible change in the lieutenants personality. 

It was about two weeks of Connor staying in the bare room before Hank had grumpily made the request that Connor “do something with that space” because it “looked like a storage room, walls all bare like that nothing but a bed and a fuckin’ robot.” When doing a quick search for how to best decorate a bedroom, Connor realized he was excited to personalize his new living quarters. It was a slow process, spanning weeks, during which time items would move in and out of the room as Connor assessed whether or not he liked them.

“I like the flag,” Hank said approvingly, leaning in the doorway and watching Connor tack a flag onto the wall. 

“It’s not one of the actual flags Markus used in the protests,” Connor said. “His were holographic, whereas these fabric ones were manufactured afterwards by a charity group who wanted to help raise money for the New Jericho movement.”

“It looks nice,” Hank said with a dry laugh, clearly not looking for the history lesson.

“Thank you.” Connor smiled sheepishly. 

Among the flag, Connor had added a few other things to the room that seemed to have made the cut. There was a bookshelf which Connor used to painstakingly organize books he’d bought and intended to read, a desk which Hank thought was ‘enabling him to work at home’ and ‘typical Connor’, a small television (for gaming, Hank no longer let him play video games in the living room after the incident with the 24 hour Dragon Age marathon), and a new set for the bed in shades of gray and black. 

“It still looks kinda stiff in here,” Hank said. “But Connor stiff not Cyberlife stiff.”

“Thank you, Hank,” Connor said. “I will choose to take that as a compliment.”

“It was a compliment!” Hank insisted. “I’m getting used to your stiffness, though I still think you should ditch the tie more often, you didn’t even go into work today for Christ’s sake.”

Connor defensively straightened his tie. “It has pictures on it, it’s casual!”

“It’s a tie,” Hank snorted. “Putting pawprints on it doesn’t make it casual.”

Hank patted Connor on the shoulder before leaving the android to keep customizing his room. 

Connor’s presence was felt beyond his room as well, little things around the house that made it clear he lived there. Thirium packets in the cupboards, healthy food in the fridge, cold case files piled neatly on the living room table in the hopes of sparking up conversation with Hank on the possible solutions (“Connor I don’t wanna talk about homicide off the clock why are you so weird?”), and it was cleaner too. Hank took great offense to Connor’s chore load but not even Ra9 could stop Connor’s compulsive need to work. 

Sumo barely managed to step one mud soaked paw into the kitchen before Connor was wrangling him into a bath and scrubbing down the floors. Not that bathing Sumo tidied more messes than it created, something Connor learned while chasing the suds covered dog through the house trying to reason with it with all the negotiation programming he had. Sumo and Hank had gotten a kick out of it at least, even if Connor ended up irritated and wet. 

“Good dog, Sumo,” Hank laughed as Connor glared at the dog he had cornered in the living room. 

Hank hadn’t really noticed (beyond the unwelcome cleanliness of the place) how deeply Connor was nesting in his house until it was his turn to host poker night.

“You gotta be kidding me, Hank,” Collins laughed, picking up a fidget spinner from the table. “Old school huh?”

“Oh, that’s Connor’s, got it for him as a joke,” Hank said. “He didn’t get it.”

“Kids, leaving their shit everywhere, huh?” Brown said as he pulled out a chair. 

“Tell me about it,” Hank said. “And it’s worse with androids, the other day he left his whole hand on the counter. His hand! Said he was doing a diagnostic and forget a tool he needed in his room. Scared the shit outta me.”

Hank had been about halfway through that sentence when he realized he hadn’t refuted the “kids” comment, and was getting sly looks from the guys. “Oh shut up,” Hank flicked the tab from his beer can at Brown. “I haven’t signed any adoption papers he’s a grown ass man.”

“That’s why you gave that nice girl down in IT the shovel talk for flirting with him, right?” Collins asked. 

“I was just looking out for him, as his partner!” Hank insisted. “You all know Myra’s body count, string of broken hearts!”

“Poor Connor, he’ll never get a date to the prom with old man Anderson scaring everybody off,” Brown teased, earning himself another beer tab to the face. 

“Why would I be attending a high school dance?” Connor said, suddenly appearing in the room and startling everyone at the table with his trademark ability to appear out of thin air. 

“Hey Connor, whatcha think of Myra down from IT?” Miller asked, innocently. 

“Myra?” Connor tilted his head to one side. “Aged 28, no criminal record, she’s worked in the IT department for five years…”

“No, not her background,” Miller said. “What do  _ you think  _ about her?”

Connor looked thoughtful for a moment, then spoke again. “I like her shampoo. It smells nice.”

“Connor don’t smell people that’s creepy!” Hank huffed. 

“She also tells very funny jokes,” Connor summed up his assessment with a nod. “She said she would teach me some if I bought her a coffee.”

“Which you’re not going to do!” Hank said with a warning finger pointed in Connor’s direction.

“But I already did?” Connor said nervously. “Yesterday? Should I not have done that?”

Miller, Brown, and Collins all started hooting while Hank sighed and took a deep drink. 

“I… don’t think I understand,” Connor said. 

“Sure you don’t, tiger,” Brown got up and slapped Connor on the back proudly. 

“... what do tigers have to do with me learning jokes from Myra?” Connor asked Hank, who just chugged his beer and shook his head. 

“Stay away from that girl, she’s trouble!” Hank said eventually. 

“She has no prior criminal record,” Connor volunteered helpfully.

“She’s a criminal alright,” Miller laughed. 

“I’m gonna have to have a talk with her,” Hank growled. 

“Uh-oh, she pissed off dad,” Brown said, earning a laugh from the group with the exclusion of Hank and Connor. Hank was threatening violence with an annoyed glare, whereas Connor was struggling to wrap his head around the situation as a whole. He decided that if Hank was attempting to defend him from Myra she must be dangerous in some way. Maybe he should decline further invitations to the break room with her. He would ask Hank about it later. 


	4. Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who gets the randomsity shirt reference gets 10 points and also is probably just as nervous as I am after seeing a recent movie trailer

There was a hole in his jacket. 

Connor was sitting at his desk, jacket in hand, considering the hole. His jacket must have caught on the fence he scaled chasing a suspect earlier that morning, and ripped the fabric. Connor ran a hand over the shining blue details, the model and serial number. It would be impossible to get a new jacket now that Cyberlife was shut down. 

“Why do you even still have that old thing?” Hank asked.    
“...it’s my uniform?” Connor replied, voice unsure.

“Yeah, exactly, so why did you keep it?” Hank leaned forward, setting aside his coffee mug. 

“It… was familiar,” Connor said with a shrug. “I don’t have a lot that’s… really mine. Things from before, things I have that I’ve always had for a long time. It felt familiar… reassuring.”

As Connor looked at the jacket he did not feel reassured. He felt small, and conflicted, and angry. The blue armband and triangle marking him as an android, singling him out amongst humans, his identification there for anyone to see and research, an outfit chosen for him not by him. He chose to keep it. Why?

“I guess I don’t really know why I kept it,” Connor said with a weak smile. “Besides the fact that I don’t own any other clothes.”

“Oh shit, right.” Hank pulled a face Connor couldn’t figure out the meaning behind. “Sorry, kid. I shoulda thought of that. We can go shopping tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Connor considered the idea of picking out clothes for himself. It wasn’t… unpleasant. 

True to his word, Hank brought Connor to the nearby department store the next day. Connor felt awkward outside his jacket, just a dress shirt and tie. If it weren’t for his LED he would pass for human. He didn’t know if he liked that idea or not, which is why he’d kept the LED in the first place. He didn’t think he wanted to look human, but he didn’t want to be fully android either. 

“See anything you like?” Hank asked. Connor fidgeted with his coin, a nervous tic not a calibration. 

“... this?” Connor more asked than told Hank as he lifted a pale blue dress shirt from the rack. 

“Yeah, okay, no,” Hank snorted. “Cyberlife blue and stiff, c’mon try again.”

Connor’s LED spun yellow as he walked around, looking at different articles of clothing. Each time he picked something up Hank would veto it for resembling a uniform. 

“I will need some professional attire for work, Hank,” Connor said with frustration. 

“Yeah, I know, and we’ll buy some, but right now I want you to find something you like not something you’re gonna stuff yourself into for the man,” Hank replied. “We’ll come back to this section, go find something fun before you pick out your work clothes. What about something like you wore to infiltrate Jericho?”

Hank was talking about the outfit Connor had borrowed from him, clothes from Hank’s younger years he’d had shoved in the back of the closet out of sentimentality and maybe a firm denial that he no longer fit into them. 

“Maybe…” Connor said. “It was a bit… out of my comfort zone.”

“That’s the point!” Hank said. “Try something new.”

Connor went back to looking this time with a new objective. 

~~**> Acquire suitable clothes** ~~

**> Try something new**

He found himself in front of a display of coats, looking at a simple black peacoat. “I think I like this.”

“Well at least it’s not blue this time,” Hank sighed. “Different enough, throw it in the cart.”

Connor slowly worked his way up to the different Hank was looking for, adding to the cart: a tie with a paw-print pattern which reminded him of Sumo, several dress shirts that were not blue, the same pair of slacks twice (“why buy two different kinds of suitable work pants, Hank?” “For fuck’s sake, Connor.”) exactly one pair of jeans (“you’re not wearing a monkey suit every goddamn day while you live under my roof”), a t-shirt with a pattern Connor found pleasing, a pair of flannel print pajama pants (“I don’t sleep Hank” “You lay in bed powered off for hours in your fucking work clothes and it creeps me out”), and finally a new jacket plain black with no serial number. 

Hank was texting while Connor checked out, and Connor suspected he was complaining to Markus about the struggles of shopping for the barely deviant. A suspicion that would be confirmed when Markus turned up the next day with some “old clothes he was getting rid of that Connor might want.”

When they got home, Connor’s jacket was still laying on the dining room table neatly folded. Connor thought his glance to it was subtle, but Hank must have noticed because he spoke up. 

“Wanna burn it?” Hank offered. “I used to do that with stuff I wanted to forget when I was a teenager.”

“That sounds very unsafe and typical of you,” Connor replied. “Thank you but… no, I don’t really want to get rid of it…”

“But you don’t wanna keep it either, huh?” Hank said. Connor nodded, LED flashing red for the briefest of moments. 

Hank picked up the jacket, tossing it haphazardly over his arm and undoing Connor’s folding. “Tell you what, I’ll put it in my closet with my old clothes. They can get dusty together.”

Connor smiled. “Thank you, Hank. I appreciate that.”

The next day when Connor got dressed (a novel concept now that he had pajamas to change out of) he spent a moment looking at himself in the mirror. 

When he’d disguised himself to get into Jericho he’d only checked his reflection to make sure the disguise was effective, and only for a moment. He’d had no opinion on his appearance outside of its relevance to the mission. Now he looked at himself, really looked at himself, for the first time outside of of his uniform. 

He liked how he looked. Slacks, button up shirt, jacket, and in what he considered an act of rebellion against the (mostly self-imposed) dress code a tie with a silly pattern of paw-prints on it. 

Markus and Hank would later conspire to get him into an outfit that consisted of sneakers, jeans, a t-shirt with the word ‘randomosity’ on it, and a gray hoodie. 


	5. Fear/Whiskey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me everytime I read a fic involving drunk Connor: I dunno seems unrealistic.... maybe his character just doesn't lend itself to drunk shenanigans   
> also me: I should try to write drunk Connor
> 
> I do have my brother to thank for the idea that a drunk android is just like a slow computer all buggy and shit
> 
> largely unsatisfied with my attempt but considering I invented a way for robots to get drunk it feels a shame to delete it without posting so here goes. The whole time I was thinking of that scene in Big Hero 6, and of Connor holding Sumo whilst declaring "hairy baby"
> 
> Sumo's the real hero of this story

Connor was walking Sumo, the first thing he always did when he got home from work and the dog bounded up to him demanding attention and exercise. He was bundled up against the February cold in a black coat, a necessity now that he was actually starting to feel the cold. He still didn’t understand why he could feel cold. The way android nerve endings were made was a messy confusing idea, and their sudden ability to feel cold and pain and other sensations was a matter of some academic debate and confusion. Connor had decided to just accept it in a rare lack of inquisitiveness. He felt cold so he put on a coat, simple as that.

As Sumo stopped to investigate a lamp post (Connor encouraged such investigation much to Hank’s annoyance whenever the older man decided to join them for a walk. Connor thought highly of Sumo’s detective skills while Hank just wanted to hurry up and go home) a man approached the pair.

Judging by his stance and facial expression, Connor could tell the man was angry, and assumed he thought Connor was about to let Sumo do his business without cleaning it up. He readied himself to explain away the misunderstanding and was therefore not prepared for the fist that came slamming into his face.

Connor fell down more from surprise than the admittedly considerable force of the blow, and was too late to rise to his feet before the man lifted him by his shirt collar and slammed him back into the lamp post.

“This is a humans only park, you fucking machine,” the man said. “Just cause the laws changed doesn’t mean we won’t be keeping things the way they’re meant to be.”

The man delivered another punch, and looked like he was readying himself for another when he suddenly cried out in pain. 

Sumo had growled and leapt on the man, biting his leg. When the man tried to shake him loose, Sumo let go and leapt in front of Connor, barking angrily and baring his teeth. The man swore and took off running, not looking to mess with 260 lbs of pissed off St. Bernard. As soon as he vanished from sight, Sumo turned to Connor whining, who had slumped down into a seated position against the lamp post, and started to lick his face. Connor numbly reached up and petted Sumo’s head.

“...good boy…” he muttered. Then he squeezed his eyes shut, his breath going in and out of his body far faster than it needed to in order to keep his internal systems cool. His thirium pump was pounding, a malfunction? Was he going to die? No, he hadn’t been hit hard enough for that. The man was no threat, and he’d sustained no damage aside from a tear in his cheek that was slowly leaking blue. 

“...I’m afraid…” was the conclusion he came to aloud. Sumo whined again and lay his head on Connor’s knee. That was enough to bring Connor back to reality, to open his eyes and stand up taking Sumo’s leash in hand. He started the walk back home, this time Sumo didn’t stop to investigate anything. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Hank asked when Connor walked in. He’d forgotten he was bleeding, a hand rose up to his cheek and brushed against the gash. 

“I…” Connor began to speak, and then found himself unable. He grabbed at his chest, as if that would stop the pain of his regulator beating twice the speed it should. He was so focused on how bad he felt he didn’t notice when Hank got up from the couch and pulled Connor back towards it to sit down. 

Next thing he knew he was holding something, a hot mug. He sampled it, and his forensics program told him it was tea: chamomile. 

“I… don’t drink things,” Connor said. 

“Yeah, but you can right?” Hank asked. “You said that one time your body can like… hold liquids for awhile and then the thirium gets rid of it or whatever?”

“I can, in a manner of speaking, digest small amounts of liquid by processing it with thirium,” Connor said. “But processing large amounts can impair my cognitive functions.”

“I don’t think your ‘cognitive functions’ are doing you any good right now anyway,” Hank said. Connor nodded and took a sip, feeling the warmth spread pleasantly through his body. The chamomile would not have the same soothing effect on him as it did a human, but the warmth was nice and the numbing of his mind that the thirium breakdown process brought might help. 

“...Sumo saved me,” Connor said. 

“He’s a good guard dog when he wants to be,” Hank said. “What happened?”

“A man, in the park,” Connor explained. “He attacked me.”

“Christ…” Hank sighed. “Get a good look at him so we can bring him in?”

“Yes, his face is stored in my memory files,” Connor said. He did not say that his face was also present in his thoughts and there whenever he closed his eyes.

Hank must have seen something change in Connor’s face, because suddenly he got up and poured a drink. Whiskey, the kind he tried to save for once or twice every two weeks just for Connor’s sake. Connor expected him to drink it, but instead he took the mug from Connor and put the glass in his hands.

“How about something a little stronger?” he said. 

“That is a very bad coping mechanism,” Connor chided.

“It’s the human thing to do,” Hank said. Connor sighed and took a sip. It burned more than he expected, but it was warm just like the tea and it seemed to dull his processors more. He wondered if lowered processing speed was the same as human drunkness. He decided to find out and chugged the contents of the glass.

“Whoa, hey, don’t have to cope that hard!” Hank said. 

“Can I have another?” Connor asked, ignoring the concern.

“.... yeah okay,” Hank said, blinking in surprise and getting up to fetch the bottle. Hank poured him another, and Connor finished it off quickly.

“Damn, kid,” Hank said. “And after all the times you got on my back about drinking…”

“I…” Connor bit back an ‘I won't die from it’ because he suddenly realized that might not be the cause. If he damaged himself fatally that would be it no more backups. He could die crossing the street or on a case or at the hands of an anti-android protestor. Instead of speaking he went to pour himself another drink. Hank watched him do it looking a little conflicted.

“So… this is why you do it,” Connor said, leaning back and letting his head tip ever so slightly back to rest on the back of the couch. “To turn off all those… feelings.”

“Well it's not the best reason to do it but yeah, basically,” Hank said.

“I think I understand now,” Connor sighed, his limbs felt heavy. 

“Yeah, maybe this wasn’t a great idea,” Hank said. “I don’t wanna be responsible for the world’s first android drunk.”

“I sincerely doubt you will be,” Connor said, raising an eyebrow. “Addictive behavior is not part of my programming.”

“Smartass,” Hank snorted. “Anyway, I should make the call about the guy who attacked you, see if we can send a car out to the local Urgent Cares to look for someone with a Sumo sized bite taken outta them.”

Connor nodded as Hank grabbed his phone from the table and went to his room to make the call. It was a strange human gesture to report an assault Connor had been a part of in a way that kept Connor from hearing it. It was… kind of Hank to try and give Connor space from the incident. 

Connor took another sip, thinking of how the smell reminded him of stepping into Jimmy’s Bar the first day he met Hank. Already warning messages were popping up in his field of vision warning him of decreased processing speed and motor function. There were models of androids programmed to simulate drinking behavior, however for them, rather than process the alcohol and experience drunkeness, they simply stored the alcohol in their body for later disposal and activated a social program which allowed them to act drunk. Connor’s model had the unique function of actually processing substances. It let him breakdown whatever evidence he stuck in his mouth, or dispose of evidence Cyberlife didn’t want falling into anyone else’s hands. It wasn’t exactly built to let him drink away the memory of an assault, which is why his vision flooded with recommendations to stop drinking before it affected his abilities. 

Connor considered the warnings as he considered another glass. If he was going to really cope the Hank way he may as well ignore the warnings and get a little self destructive.

When Hank came back to the living room Connor looked like he was focusing very hard. He had his glass clenched in his hand, and was staring at his feet. Hank sighed, it really hadn't been a great day for the kid.

“You wanna watch a movie or something, Connor?” Hank offered. “Take your mind off things?”

No response.

“Connor?”

Suddenly Connor's hand shot out, as if he had been meaning to set his cup down on the table and had just now realized there was a time limit for it. “SurejustletmefeedSumofirst,” the android said, words coming out fast and slurred together like one big word.

“Jesus, Connor,” Hank said, reminded of an old laptop he'd had that would freeze up when he tried to do something only to open ten windows of the thing he'd clicked on.

Connor definitely looked like he was buffering the way his LED spun around, a busy yellow.

Connor got up altogether too fast, and stumbled past Hank into the kitchen. Sumo, sensing food incoming, followed him tail wagging. 

“Maybe you should just sit down,” Hank said. “Don’t want you to fry your circuits or whatever.”

“Hank, I’m fine,” Connor said, reaching for the cabinet the dog food was kept in and then freezing like that for thirty seconds. Hank was just about to wave his hand in front of Connor’s face when the android jerked, opening the cabinet in one swift motion, grabbing the bag of dog food and managing to spill a good portion of the bag all over the floor much to Sumo’s delight. 

“Oh my god,” Hank wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or shout at Connor, but considering the android was already having a rough night he tried not to do either. Still, watching Connor consider the spilled dog food with confusion and shock made it hard to hold in laughter. 

“Just sit down, Connor, I’ll fix this,” Hank said, grabbing the broom. 

“No! Igotit!” Connor tried to get to the broom first, but only succeeded in tripping into a chair where he then draped himself across the seat on his stomach. 

“Hank. I think my cognitivefunctionsare impaired,” Connor mumbled. 

“Yeah, no shit,” Hank chuckled. Sumo seemed concerned about Connor, and walked over to the android whimpering to offer help by way of licking his face. 

“I would die for you,” Connor told Sumo, taking his face in both hands.

“C’mon, up.” Hank got Connor to his feet, having to support the android to keep him upright. It occurred to him that just a few months back their positions had been swapped, and for a moment Hank had a deliciously vengeful image of dousing Connor with a cold shower, but he resisted temptation and instead helped him to the couch where he collapsed face down. Sumo followed them to the living room and Hank was almost jealous that the only thing that could distract the dog from food was Connor.

“I’m an advanced prototype,” Connor groaned into a pillow. “This is notadvancedprototype behavior.”

“It’s alright, kid,” Hank said. 

“I’m worth more than this house!” Connor said, deciding in that moment to roll off the couch and onto Sumo. He buried his face in the dog’s fur and said something Hank couldn’t make out. 

“What?”

Connor lifted his face from Sumo. “I said dogsarebetter than people.”

“Yeah, they are,” Hank agreed.

“Do you knowwhoI hate?” Connor asked. “Detective Reed. Detective fuckingReed.”

“It sounds weird when you swear,” Hank said. “But yeah, I know.”

“Fuck,” Connor said softly, probably just because Hank said it sounded weird, before burying his face in Sumo’s fur again. It was a few minutes before he talked again, and Hank wasn’t sure if that was cause he froze up again or because he had been thinking.

“I was scared today. Ofsomeonethatwas no threat. I could have incapacit… inca… hit him really hard. But I didn’t. I got scared of him.”

“It happens.” Hank shrugged. “Fear is stupid. It doesn’t always make sense.”

“Just like humans,” Connor said. He struggled to sit up, leaning his back against the couch while Sumo immediately made himself comfortable in Connor’s lap, and with a quick look in Hank’s direction the android reached for the bottle on the table. Hank slapped his hand away.

“Hell no, I don’t wanna find out if androids can get alcohol poisoning,” Hank examined the bottle with a squint. “Besides, it’s… empty. Connor half a bottle is a lot, a whole bottle, what the fuck?”

“You have no proofthatwasme!” Connor pouted. “I-” he froze for a second mid-sentence. “-betitwasSumohelooksawfullysuspicious.”

“Alright, come on, let’s get you to bed,” Hank said, trying to pull Connor to his feet again. Connor made things hard for him going limp and protesting. 

“Idon’tneedtosleep I’m an advanced prototype!” he said as Hank dragged him down the hall. “I have freewillyoucan’t tell me whattodo!”

He was ‘asleep’ within the next two minutes, face down in bed with Sumo snoring away next to him. Hank made a mental note to slip the dog some treats soon for how he’d been hovering protectively around Connor all night, and for biting the bastard that got this whole mess started. With the party animal in bed, Hank went back to the living room to watch some tv before calling it a night. He wondered wryly to himself if androids got hangovers. 


	6. Recovery (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys so this is an idea my brother and I talked out last night till 5 am just a heads up it does get kinda heavy  
> there are references to alcohol and drug abuse nothing super horrible but if that's something that bothers you just be aware
> 
> Writing this first part took a lot of time and energy so I'm just gonna post it now and get that second part to you as soon as I can
> 
> Again remember comments make my day and you can request something you wanna see happen in this little collection. Also I genuinely don't know if I ship Connor and Markus or not at this point I was never a big shipper for dbh but I've read some fic lately that got me wondering if I wanna write that ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Also just fun fact I named Andy both after And(y)roid and Andy Warhol since Carl already had his son and his robo son named after artists

Andy was pouring Carl a drink when Markus and Connor exited the studio, a late night painting lesson concluded. As usual, Carl saw how Connor’s eyes were drawn right to his glass, a careful gaze that Markus had confirmed for him meant the android was scanning him. Connor didn’t give any other sign of distress or judgement, he kept talking with Markus as they joined Carl in the living room, but his eyes were watching. 

“Andy, I have another painting I want Markus to sell for the New Jericho funds, would you mind showing it to him?” Carl asked his aide.

“Carl, you don’t have to keep selling off your work to help us,” Markus said with a fond smile. “You’ve done enough already.”

“I think I still have my part to play in helping you,” Carl said, his eyes meeting Markus’s before slowly looking over to Connor. Carl and Markus couldn’t share a private conversation the way a pair of androids could, but they’d spent enough time in each other’s company to know what the other was trying to say now and then. “Just let Andy show you to it, it’s not even one of my better ones you’ll be doing me a favor getting rid of the old thing.”

Markus nodded and stood, waiting for Andy to lead him into the next room. As they left, Connor stood as if he would leave soon too. It was only when Carl wheeled over to him and gestured for him to sit back down that he really made himself comfortable.

“Connor,” Carl said, slowly and carefully like he was approaching a stray cat. “You’re worried about someone, aren’t you?”

Connor tilted his head to the side, a mask of confusion and innocence spreading across his face. “I’m sorry, Carl?”

“You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” Carl added. “But… I know that look. I’ve given that look before, to my son… Leo.”

Connor, ever intelligent but probably the least socially gifted young man Carl had ever met, nodded. “Leo Manfred, criminal record of possession of illegal substances and theft. Died November 5th 2038.”

“It was red ice,” Carl said. “I used to blame myself… I thought maybe I’d failed somewhere, but, addiction is a disease. It can affect anyone, and it doesn’t make you a bad person for not being able to cure them, you can’t expect yourself to.”

“That’s certainly at odds with how I was programmed,” Connor said. “But… so is basically everything else I’ve learned since becoming deviant. I suppose I have to remember I’m not just a device made to help humans, not anymore.”

“May I ask, who is it in your life that has the drinking problem?” Carl asked, leaning forward and folding his hands in his lap.

“My partner, Hank,” Connor said, a sigh parting his lips. “When we first met it was just a hindrance to my investigation, but since we’ve started living together I’ve come to care for him.”

Connor turned to Carl, hunched over and hands clasped together, his brown eyes fixed on the older man looking for all the world like a scared child. “I don’t want to watch him kill himself.”

Carl nodded, sensing Connor wasn’t done yet. He waited until the android was ready to talk again.

“He tries, he really does,” Connor said. “But I think the way he’s trying is ineffective. My tactics only serve to irritate him, or to take care of him after he’s already drunk. I thought perhaps if he addressed the emotional problems at the root of his addiction it would solve the problem, but it hasn’t seemed to have worked.”

“People aren’t as simple as that,” Carl said. “They take a lot of work, and they have to be the ones to do most of it. I hope you aren’t wearing yourself thin trying to heal for him.”

“I…” Connor began to speak, but just then Markus and Andy came back into the room. 

“I have to get Carl to bed,” Andy explained apologetically, and Carl scoffed.

“Right, I forgot I have a nanny. He’s as bad as you were Markus,” he said.

“Usually he says I’m worse,” Andy joked, taking the handles of Carl’s wheelchair in hand. “I think he’s warming up to me.”

“Thanks for looking out for him.” Markus smiled. “I’ll see you this weekend, Carl.”

Connor and Markus said their goodnights to Carl and Andy, before gathering their things and heading for the door. 

“What did he want to talk to you about?” Markus asked, pulling on his coat.

“The nature of humanity?” Connor offered with a bemused smile. “And sage advice.”

“That certainly sounds like Carl,” Markus agreed. “He was always teaching me, I owe a lot to him.”

“He’s very kind,” Connor said, opening the door for Markus. They stepped out into the chill, artificial breath making real puffs of fog in the air. 

“Want to share a cab?” Markus asked, stepping down to the walkway.

“Hank said he would pick me up, I’ll just wait for him by the street,” Connor said. Then suddenly, something in the dark caught his eye. He scanned the area, something his programming had once made him do anytime he entered a new environment, and swore when his suspicions about the house across the street were confirmed.

“Markus!” Connor jumped out to where Markus was walking, pushing him to the ground and using his body as a shield. The bang of a gunshot rang out, as Markus felt Connor push him to the ground. The next sound was the thud of Connor’s body hitting the stone walkway, and a mechanical cry of pain. Markus stayed flat on his stomach as another bullet hit the dirt about a foot away from him. That was all he needed to tell where the bullets were coming from. A scan of the area informed him he could back up behind a nearby bush to reduce the sniper’s visibility, and from there get back into the house, but Connor…

Connor was laying on his back, and in the dark Markus couldn’t tell the extent of the damage. He would have to make himself a target to get to Connor, but he wasn’t about to leave him stranded. 

Markus prepared himself to make a run for it when he heard a car pulling up. The sniper, undeterred by an addition to the battlefield, kept taking potshots at Carl’s yard. Connor wouldn’t be safe laying out in the open, but if that car was who Markus thought it was they wouldn’t be without help for long. 

As predicted a second gun joined the cacophony of sound, and there was a brief window where the sniper was distracted that Markus was able to take advantage of to run out and lift Connor. He ran for the house, grateful for the doors that swung open as he got near. He heard one last gunshot pierce the house as he made it into cover, Connor hanging limp in his arms. He gently lay Connor down on the floor, growing worried when he noticed the spread of blue across Connor’s shirt.

He wasted no time calling the police, and was about to run back out to help Hank when he felt something tug at his ankle. It was Connor, half twisted on the ground so that he could stop Markus. 

“No…” he said, his voice strained. “...here for… you…”

“That’s why I won’t let Hank get killed on my behalf,” Markus said, but Connor managed to hold firm to his leg despite the fact he was bleeding out onto the tile. Before Markus could get free it went quiet. He pulled free of Connor’s grasp and ran to the door, peering out the window. He couldn’t see anyone, so he stepped out. When he wasn’t immediately shot he assumed the coast was clear and ran out to the street. Hank was already exiting the house where the sniper had been holed up, looking unharmed aside from a gash on his forehead that was slowly leaking blood.

“Well, nice to see you, Markus,” he panted. Markus grinned at the lieutenant’s typical dry wit, before remembering they hadn’t all made it out without a scratch.

“Connor…” he said, smile vanishing, and Hank froze.

“What about him?” he asked. Markus just turned and ran back to the house, hearing Hank swear and start running behind him.

Carl and Andy were in the foyer, Andy kneeling beside Connor. He’d opened up Connor’s shirt to get a better look at the damage and was running careful hands through Connor’s interior biocomponents. Hank took one look at Connor’s open torso and the exposed metal and wiring inside and let loose with a string of curses.

“Aw hell, Connor,” he all but cried out, falling to his knees next to the wounded android. Andy moved back, hands stained blue. 

“He’s going to need more help than I can give him,” he told Markus. “His pump is damaged, along with a dozen other biocomponents the bullet managed to shred when it broke apart in his body. I wasn’t able to retrieve it all.”

“We can bring him to New Jericho,” Markus said, already sending a message to Simon to be ready. 

“Connor…” Hank had pulled Connor into his lap, and was cradling him in his arms. “Stay with me, kid.”

“S...s̛͝s̶͞s͢͏s̸͞...ss…” Connor was trying to speak, but his voice was coming out distorted and interrupted. His eyes were unfocused, glancing around wildly like he couldn’t tell where Hank was.

“No, don’t,” Hank said. “We’re gonna get you to the car, just hang tight, okay?”

“Sss...sor͘͘͞r̡͢y, ̴͟dą̨d,” Connor muttered, eyes fluttering shut. Hank hadn’t realized Connor had been clinging to his shirt with one hand until it let loose from the fabric and fell with a thud against his chest. 

“Connor?” Hank felt the air leave his lungs. He was dimly aware of Markus trying to pull Connor from his arms, and he realized he was fighting him. He shouldn’t do that, Markus was trying to help. Yeah, Markus was his chance to save Connor he had to let go. 

He managed to get some sense into himself and let go so Markus could carry Connor to the car. He followed behind him, and didn’t complain when Markus took his keys. He didn’t trust himself to drive right now. That’s how they’d gotten into this mess in the firs… no that wasn’t Connor, Connor had been shot. This wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t that he’d been too late, how could he have known someone would try to kill Markus that night?

_ “It wasn’t your fault,” _

Connor’s voice from the back of his head, and Connor’s head in his lap as Markus broke every traffic law known to man or android. 

Hank carried Connor into New Jericho, and this time he didn’t struggle when a group of androids took Connor from his arms and rushed him off to some other room. He felt like he’d been standing there watch them go for hours when Markus put a hand on his shoulder and led him off into another room.

“I think we made it in time,” Markus said, but his voice was shaking so Hank wasn’t exactly inclined to believe him. He wished whoever was crying would shut up, he was trying to focus and some asshole was just crying. Tears fell on Hank’s hands resting in his lap as he wished to god someone would shut that crying asshole up.

Connor woke up in a strange room, his thirium levels critically depleted.

His body was operating at about half power to make up for it, so he felt sluggish as he opened his eyes and tried to take in his surroundings. He didn’t have the power for a scan, he had to settle for taking in the evidence piece by piece slowly moving his eyes around the room.

The remnants of old Cyberlife decor, painting on the wall, blanket pulled over him, window, shades letting in splinters of sunlight, New Jericho. 

Thirium depleted, pain in his chest, recent repairs? Recent damage. Hank sitting nearby head slumped onto the bed, sound of talking from the hall… wait, Hank.

“Hank,” Connor croaked, and the older man stirred. Hank sat up with a yawn, and when he realized it was Connor who woke him up he smiled. 

“God damn it Connor, do you know how few RK800 parts they got lying around here?” he scolded instead of doing what he wanted to do which was hug the kid. 

“I would imagine very few,” Connor said weakly, a smile slowly working its way onto his face. “I’m an advanced prototype.”

Hank chuckled, and then stood up to get something from a nearby table. “They told me to make you drink this when you woke up. Normally I’m against you putting this shit in your mouth but since you need it to live I guess we can make an exception.”

Connor took the thirium from Hank gratefully. 

“How do you feel?” Hank asked, and Connor paused in drinking to answer.

“Like shit.”

Hank laughed again. “Markus stopped by earlier, I think you should talk to him soon before the guilt eats him alive.” Hank shook his head. “You always gotta take the bullet for people, huh?”

Connor understood Hank was referencing the Stratford Tower, how he’d pulled Hank out of the way of the deviant’s fire. Once, Connor had thought his programming responsible for that action. It was just another line of code telling him to preserve human life. Now he knew he’d chosen to save Hank because he’d grown fond of him, and was afraid he would die. 

“Markus is important…” Connor said slowly, afraid that sounding too self-sacrificial would make Hank angry. “He’s the leader of the android rights movement.”

“I know why you did it,” Hank sighed. “Just… be careful next time?”

Connor nodded. “I’ll try.”

A week passed since the incident, during which time Connor was able to go home. He learned the sniper was apprehended not long after they took him to New Jericho, and that he was a well-known leader of a hate group, one vocally against the android rights movement. At the end of the week Connor was sure he’d spent enough time at home “recovering” to please Hank, and when morning came he got ready for work only to have Hank stop him at the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hank asked.

“Work?” Connor said hopefully.

“You’ve still got plenty of leave left,” Hank said, folding his arms over his chest and not budging from in front of the door.

“Hank, I am fully repaired, I have been fully repaired for some time now and I’m fit to go back to work,” Connor insisted, but Hank shook his head.

“Just give it some time, okay? Any human cop who got shot would stay out longer, just… take some time.”

Connor felt uncomfortable with the idea of more down time, but something in Hank’s voice convinced him. So he spent another week off. 

Hank went into work as little as possible, he brought case files home and worked on them there. Whenever Connor went out to walk Sumo or pick up groceries, Hank would come with him. Connor was starting to feel a little suffocated by it all, Hank making him stay home and then shadowing him everywhere he went. He understood Hank was concerned but he was fine aside from a little cabin fever. His model was never meant to sit around, he was meant to pursue and examine and solve problems. Instead he found himself running out of video games to complete in order to simulate the feeling of a completed mission, and spending long hours in rest mode waking up feeling worse than when he laid down. 

So, he felt it was a little understandable that he was irritated by Hank’s refusal to let him go back to work after two weeks. He ended up letting the human get his way again and spending more time off, but the longer he was at home the more miserable he got, and the more miserable he got the more him and Hank bickered. 

They fought over things that didn’t even matter and Connor could see Hank was surprised at his behavior, but he felt no reason to stop. Hank started spending more time out of the house now, and he usually came home smelling of cheap whiskey. That was the last straw for Connor, who was cooped up at home while Hank got to go out and drink himself into an early grave. 

It all came to a head when Hank came home one night fresh from the bar, to find Connor sitting on the couch with his knees drawn up against his chest just staring straight ahead at nothing. 

“What’s with you?” Hank asked.

“What’s with me?” Connor shot back his tone mocking. “Great question, Hank.”

“Fuck, man,” Hank threw his hands up defensively. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“I feel trapped!” Connor shouted, standing quickly and beginning to pace. “You won’t listen to me, and I’ve been nothing but cooperative because I know you’re worried but this is driving me crazy!”

“It’s not my fault you’re such a neurotic little prick!” Hank said, “who can’t take a fucking vacation. I thought Markus had pulled that Cyberlife stick outta your ass but here you are just begging to be put to work again like some kinda… kinda… fucking dog!”

“Yeah, having work ethic really isn’t your thing, I know,” Connor huffed. “I want to go back to work, Hank.”

“You’re not ready yet!”

“I’ve been ready!”

“Forget it!”

“Oh, so I have to stay here for the rest of my life,” Connor hissed, “but you can leave anytime you feel like a beer?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t go out drinking if you didn’t make me need a drink so fucking bad!” Hank shot back, and immediately he regretted it. He was drunk, he was angry, but that crossed the line and he knew it the minute he saw Connor’s eyes go wide and his LED flash red. Connor’s face went from shocked, to hurt, to furious in a matter of seconds, and he pushed past Hank for the door.

“Connor, wait!” Hank tried to grab him but Connor pushed him aside like he was made of feathers and air. Connor ran out of the house, no coat and no shoes into the dark and the last remnants of snow from the winter all blackened with dirt and gasoline. Hank ran after him but he was an out of shape human and Connor was a machine programmed to hunt other machines, so it was really no contest. Connor was gone before Hank could blink. Hank ran for his car, but the piece of crap wouldn’t start. He slammed his hands against the steering wheel and swore. He was an idiot, and a mean old fucker, and a drunk, and he’d made a huge mistake.

He was so worried about losing the kid he went and forced him out, just like he did to everybody.

Hank took a moment to calm down, pulling in shaky breaths, before calmly trying again to start his car. The old engine rumbled to life and he drove off to search.

Connor just walked aimlessly, not feeling the cold that bit at his skin or the snow that soaked into his socks. He might have walked like that until he hit a wall if it weren’t for the fact that another android out and about recognized the distressed looking android as one of Markus’s friends, and sent him a message asking if he should try and do something. 

Markus put two fingers to his forehead as he received the call and the image of Connor. It was the first he’d seen of him in weeks, and he looked… not great. 

_ Can you just keep an eye on him? I’m on my way. _

_ Sure, anything for you, Markus. _

Connor didn’t notice the cab pulling up next to him or the android stepping out of it until Markus was right next to him, sighing and removing his coat to drape around Connor’s shoulders. “Come on, Connor, get in.”

Connor didn’t answer, and tried to shrug off Markus’s hands.

“Connor, it’s alright, it’s me, let’s get you out of the cold.”

“Leave me alone,” came the bitter response as Connor pulled away, arms flailing wildly as he talked. “Stop trying to help me. Your help made me… made me this! I’m broken because you had to be right… because you couldn’t just let me stay the way I was.”

Markus could see Connor’s stress level was well into the danger zone, so he didn’t take what he said personally, he just grabbed Connor’s wrists so he wouldn’t hurt himself.

“Connor, you’re not feeling well,” he said. “I’m gonna take you back to Carl’s, alright?”

“I told you to leave me alone!” Connor said, backing up against a nearby building. Markus held out his hands in a peaceful gesture. 

“I just want to help, Connor.”

“I told you I don’t want your help,” Connor said darkly. Markus watched as his friend’s stress level rose.

**Stress level ^86%**

**RK800 mental state deteriorating, alert Cyberlife for pickup and repair**

“I won’t hurt you,” Markus said. “I know you’re upset, but you’re not safe out here like this.”

Connor didn’t answer, just glared at Markus from under a mess of black curls that were usually slicked back professionally. 

Markus sighed impatiently, and grabbed Connor, pulling him towards the cab. Connor struggled but he was tapped out emotionally and physically from his frantic walking whereas Markus had spent the day indoors relaxing. He forced Connor into the cab and then gave it the coordinates to Carl’s house. 

**Stress level ^90%**

**RK800 malfunction detected. Alert Cyberlife immediately.**

“It’s gonna be okay,” Markus said, watching Connor carefully. Connor just slumped against the window, and closed his eyes.

“Someone saw him,” Miller said, running into the room. 

Not knowing what to do when Connor ran off, Hank had turned to his coworkers for help. They’d started a search of the city which had turned up nothing till Miller’s arrival. 

“Where’s he at?” Hank asked. 

“We don’t know, we just have an eye witness say they saw Connor walking down near the river, he got into a cab with the deviant leader,” Miller said.

“Oh thank god,” Hank all but collapsed into his chair. “He’s okay then… he’s either headed to Manfred’s place or New Jericho…”

“I can go one place, you can search the other,” Collins offered and Hank nodded. 

“I’ll take Manfred’s… I don’t think Markus would take him somewhere so busy right now but if there’s a chance… I appreciate you looking.”

Collins nodded. There was an air of worry permeating the precinct, Connor had become fairly popular during his time here and the DPD always had a way of looking out for their own. Even Reed had joined in the search when he heard Connor was missing, he’d told Hank he’d ‘drag the plastic prick home.’

Hank could feel himself sobering up as he got in his car, and he was thankful for that. He didn’t need one more thing for Connor to worry about right now. He swore if this all ended okay he’d finally take Lewis up on that offer to go to a meeting, collect the chips and everything. He was done making his problems other people’s problems.

Connor went straight to the couch when they got to Carl’s. Markus spared a moment to fill Andy in on the situation before joining Connor in the living room. 

He was sitting totally still, hands on his knees and eyes closed, LED pulsing red. 

**Stress level ^99%**

**RK800 unstable. Malfunction detected. Alert Cyberlife immediately. Further engagement may result in injury.**

He wasn’t trying to self destruct, maybe Markus’s scans were faulty, or maybe Connor was just made of tougher stuff, though Markus doubted it. He’d seen Connor nearly reach that point before just once, tearing at his skin and hair before he was able to be calmed down. Something wasn’t right here. 

Markus ignored the warnings as he pulled up a chair and reached forward, pulling back the skin of his hand to touch Connor’s arm.

He was immediately assaulted by a cold wind, snow flying into his eyes and obscuring his vision. He raised a hand to shield his face and was able to see Connor in the distance. He started walking towards him. 

“Connor?” he called out. 

Connor didn’t answer. He was kneeling on the ground, fiddling with something. When Markus approached he was dismayed to see bits of red code falling through Connor’s fingertips like bloodied snow. 

“Maybe I can put it back together,” Connor said. He sounded shaken, and his face was gaunt and haunted. “Do you think? I can go back to how I was before?”

“No, you can’t,” Markus said. “You’re not a machine anymore, Connor. You’re awake.”

Connor gathered more of the code in his hands, clenching his fists a moment and reopening them to reveal he’d pressed the red dust into a solid piece. 

“I think I can do it,” he said. “I just have to fix this.”

Andy let Hank in, but he didn’t come into the living room with him. He looked nervous just getting too close to the doors. Hank didn’t bother asking him about it, he just went through to find Connor.

“Jesus…” Hank took a sharp breath. 

Connor was sitting on the couch, ragged and dirty from his escape, eyes shut. Markus was holding his arm, his eyes squeezed shut like he was in pain. Connor’s LED was red and if Markus still had his Hank had no doubt it would look the same. Hank didn’t know what they were doing, and he felt a pang of guilt at that. All this time Connor was learning to be more human and Hank hadn’t bothered to learn a thing about being android.

He sat down on the couch next to Connor, not sure of what to do. He looked at Markus’s hand on Connor’s arm and slowly reached out to wrap his hand around Connor’s other arm.

“Hey, kid,” he said. 

“Connor, you have to stop this,” Markus said, watching helplessly as Connor assembled a red wall between them. There were instructions half completed all over the place here and there:

**Stop the deviant lea Kill M**

**Remain a ma ne**

**Appreh Report to**

**Interrog**

This was his self destruct: a total reset. 

“Connor, listen to me,” Markus said. “This isn’t going to help.”

Connor wasn’t even showing that he heard Markus at this point. 

“I’m so sorry, Connor,” Hank sighed. “I know that doesn’t mean much coming from me, that all my sorrys just add up while I go do whatever the fuck I want but I mean it. And I understand if you don’t wanna come home, but I wanna listen this time. I don’t wanna fuck this up.”

Markus could hear Hank dimly, and Connor must have heard him too because he froze in his work. He blinked and peered at Markus like he was just coming into focus. “...Markus?”

“Connor!” Markus cried out in relief. “Connor, please, you gotta stop what you’re doing.”

Connor looked down at his hands, red code still spilling from his fingertips. He squinted like it was unfamiliar to him. 

“What… am I doing?” he asked Markus. 

“It’s okay, I’m going to try and pull you out now, alright?” Markus asked. “Think you can handle that?”

Connor looked back at Markus. “... yes? I think so.”

“Fuck!” Hank pulled back as Markus and Connor jerked upright, gasping for air they didn’t really need. Markus practically fell out of his chair doubling over and Connor winced and closed up on himself. 

“Fuck…” he agreed with Hank.

When both androids had their wits about them again, Markus stepped out to give Hank and Connor some time to talk. He spent that time by Carl’s bedside, talking with him until he felt his head clear again.

Connor and Hank talked too, slowly and carefully.

“I… accept your apology but,” Connor shook his head. “I think I need some time.”

“Yeah, no, yeah, that’s totally understandable,” Hank said awkwardly. “Yeah. I get it.”

“You can stay here.”

Hank and Connor looked up at Markus who had appeared in the room. He was leaning against the wall with his arms folded against his chest. “I asked Carl. You can stay here as long as you want.”

Hank felt a bit of a sting that Markus had seen this coming, but he tried to focus on being glad that Connor had somewhere to go.

“Yeah uh… I’ll get going then,” Hank said, standing. He thanked Markus as he walked past, and was about to leave when Connor called his name.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder.

Connor tilted his head that way he always did. “Sumo hasn’t been fed tonight. You should feed him when you get back.”

“Ha, right,” Hank snorted. “Sure thing, Connor.”


	7. Recovery (Part Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we kinda take a 180 from angst into goofs with the occasional angst
> 
> I was going to spend more time on this chapter but equal parts finals week coming up and my brother shooting another idea my way made me rush to get it finished before things got busy with more writing and finals and packing up for winter break
> 
> Anyway here's a chapter with two Asimov references, that takes a character we see for 10 seconds at Carl's house with like two lines of dialogue and makes him a real fucking dumbass who I love and introduces the new Hank approved drinking game "take a shot every time Connor calls himself an advanced prototype"
> 
> (I didn't get into it as much as I planned to when planning these two chapters but I might come back to the idea of Connor having a sort of al-anon journey with Carl)

Hank woke up to an empty house.

He rolled out of bed with a headache he was sure he deserved but definitely didn’t drink enough to have, and made his way to the kitchen.

As he made coffee and tried to find something resembling food in the fridge he noticed Sumo waiting by the door. The dog was laying with his nose pressed up against it, whining softly. Hank sighed and gave the dog a pat on the head.

“Not today, boy,” he said. “Sorry.”

Connor woke up to music. 

He made the bed, got dressed in the clothes Hank had dropped off for him a few days ago, and made his way downstairs. 

Andy was making breakfast for Carl in the kitchen, and singing along to what Markus was playing on the piano. Carl was probably still in bed. 

When Markus noticed Connor come in he gave him a smile and moved over on the bench, giving the other android room to sit. Connor joined him, fingers hovering over the keys. 

“Think you can keep up this time?” Markus asked playfully.

“You’re a good teacher, don’t insult all the hard work you put into me like that,” Connor teased back, starting to play.

Hank looked at his reflection critically. Even fresh out of the shower he looked like shit. Cold turkey was not a good look for him. 

He trimmed up his beard and pulled his hair back into a bun, not ready to cut it quite yet. Those little adjustments seemed to work well enough, so he gave himself a nod in the mirror and headed to the bedroom to get dressed.

Ready for work, he slipped Sumo a treat out of pity and gently pushed the dog out of the way of the door to get outside. He was sure once the door closed Sumo would be right back to pressing up against it waiting for Connor like he had been the past few days. 

“To be fair… I was never programmed for cooking,” Connor said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as Markus and Andy tried to hold in their laughter at the attempt Connor had made to help Andy with breakfast. 

“Somehow these eggs are burnt and undercooked,” Andy said. 

“And they’re crunchy too,” Markus said, pointing out a few egg shells sticking out of the goo Connor called scrambled eggs. “I thought you said you were trying to get Hank to eat better, have you been cooking like this?”

“I just cook easier things!” Connor said.

“Easier than… eggs,” Andy mused, wondering what that could possibly be. 

“Toast?” Markus suggested with an innocent face.

“Cereal?” Andy offered, equally innocent.

“PB&J?”

“Water?”

“I was never programmed to cook!” Connor huffed, throwing his hands up in defeat as Andy and Markus laughed. “I’m an advanced prototype! I can work any firearm known to man!”

“Right, you just can’t figure out how to crack an egg,” Markus said. 

Connor shot him a gesture he’d learned from Hank.

“Uh… morning, Hank?” Miller said as Hank walked into the precinct at 8:00 am on the dot. The way everyone was looking at him, you’d think Hank was a ghost. To be fair, it was far more likely to see a ghost than it was to see Hank Anderson on time for work.

“Morning,” Hank grunted back, trying to ignore the stares. 

He sat down at his desk, trying to ignore the empty desk across from him. For years he’d been perfectly happy with his own workspace and then some android invaded it. Then he got used to the android, then the android got shot and Hank didn’t want him getting shot again so he made him stay away from his precious desk for weeks. Now Hank would like nothing more than to see Connor happily organizing his workspace and logging onto the computer to file away his reports. 

Could Cyberlife please program a love of work into his brain?

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up,” Markus said as he and Connor walked to the studio.

“Sorry?” Connor asked.

“Hank. I mentioned him earlier and you looked a bit stiff,” Markus said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Connor said with a shrug. “I think… I’m okay.”

“You know you’re always allowed to be not okay,” Markus said.

“I know that, I’m just ready to be okay again,” Connor said. The pair started setting up canvases and gathering paints. At this point Connor knew his way around the studio just as well as Markus did. He’d decided he liked learning music more than he liked learning art, but it was still something he enjoyed. 

“When are you going back to New Jericho?” Connor asked. 

“...soon, probably,” Markus said. 

“Markus.”

“They don’t need me right now,” Markus said. “North, Simon, and Josh have been running things mostly anyway.”

“You’re not staying because of me, right?” Connor asked, cocking his head to the side. “Because you don’t need to worry about me.”

“No, I know you’re doing better,” Markus said with a soft smile. “I don’t think emotionally tortured people vault park benches to pet a dog.”

“I didn’t vault it! I just… circumvented it. It was a calculated move.”

“You scared that woman half to death.”

“I was just trying to get there in time to ask her if I could pet her dog, Markus.”

“Remind me again why you’ve got me on these bullshit cases?” Hank asked Fowler, looking over his list. Nothing but complaints of suspicious android behavior and then on the other side reports of suspicious human behavior. Just goose chases of people pissed off at and afraid of each other.

“Need I remind you your attendance the past few weeks has made the average college student look dedicated,” Fowler shot back “If I could trust you to come into work I could trust you with a better case. Until then, handle whatever human-android relations I assign you Mr. Human-Android-Relations-Unit.”

Hank groaned but he didn’t fight back, which is what Fowler had been prepared for. To be fair, Hank had been shutting up and doing his work more often than before. He was still a mean sonuvabitch who complained every step of the way, but he hadn’t gotten written up in awhile so Fowler considered that a small miracle. 

“Standing too close to my store… fucking dickhead wants a fucking cop for android loiterers gimme a brea-” Hank’s voice faded out as he grumbled his way out of Fowler’s office.

“Why… are we here?” Connor asked, examining the grease and gum covered area before him with confusion and slight distaste. 

“I thought you might be getting a little rusty, Mr. Advanced Prototype,” Markus said. “So I give you the premier laser tag arena of the entire Detroit area… or so some thirteen year old on the internet says.”

“I’m going to shoot so many thirteen year olds,” Andy cackled. “You should have brought North, she would love this.”

Connor did a quick search on laser tag and squinted at Markus. “You want us to play a children’s game?”

“Technically there’s no age limit and technically you’re seven months old,” Markus tossed a pack and gun at Connor, who caught it and then immediately straightened out his tie which had wrinkled in the impact. “I think you’re just afraid all that sitting around has made you soft.”

“...says the pacifist,” Connor replied curtly. 

“Oooooh, I want him on my team,” Andy said. 

“And how often do you see her here?” Hank asked, pretending to take notes but instead drawing a picture of Sumo on his notepad. 

“Three times a week, it just stands around until I tell it to leave!” the store owner huffed. “I think it’s looking for a handout.”

“I’m sure  _ she _ is no threat at all,” Hank said, snapping his notepad shut. “I’ll take a look see if I can’t find out what this terrifying loiterer wants.”

“It’s driving away my customers,” the man said, folding his arms over his chest. “I do hope you’re taking this seriously, officer.”

“It’s lieutenant, and I assure you I’m not,” Hank said with his cheesiest grin. “Have a nice day, sir.”

“Mercy!” Markus shouted, running from the shadow that was leaping across the plywood and carpet towers above him. All he could see was a slight flash of blue now and then as Connor leapt and flipped his way across the higher platforms. Markus aimed his gun at the light just in time for it to vanish again. Markus took off running.

He ducked behind a wall, and found Andy had already claimed this hiding spot. 

Andy held a finger over his lips and then pointed out towards the middle of the arena. Then he made several complex hand motions, winked, and nodded. 

_ What? _ Markus asked him in their private channel.

Andy grinned and nodded again before running out towards the center of the arena.

“Come and get me!” he shouted. “I’m right here!”

His vest pinged and lit up red almost immediately, and Andy feigned death on the spot. His vest lit up several more times as his attacker took a few petty victory shots.

“That’s not very sportsmanlike, Connor,” Markus said. 

Then Markus’s vest lit up. 

Markus huffed at the laughter that came from the shadows. 

“I’m sorry…” the android girl in front of Hank said, staring down at her feet. “I just… she said she would meet me there… when it was all over… she still hasn’t come.”

Hank sighed and rubbed at his temples. This girl was wearing old clothes that looked like they came from a dumpster, she had scarring around where her LED used to be, and she looked scared out of her wits. 

“Calm down, kid, you’re not in trouble,” Hank said. “Who’s she?”

“My sister…” the girl said. “I mean… I know humans don’t like when I say that but-”

“Tell me about your sister, when did you last see her?” Hank prompted gently. The android just looked at him in disbelief at his cooperation and burst out crying. Hank awkwardly put his hands out, not sure what to do, but she dove for him in a hug he ended up returning stiffly.

“I’m just so scared without her,” she said. 

“Hey… it’s gonna be okay. Let’s go back to the station, and we can talk there, okay?” Hank said. The android nodded tearfully, but she did crack a small smile.

“You know what, that actually was quite fun!” Connor beamed as he hung up his pack and gun. “Thank you for bringing me, Markus, we should come again soon!”

“Yeah…” Markus groaned, exchanging a weary glance with Andy. “Soon.”

After Markus apologized to the manager for Connor’s blatant disregard of the “no running, jumping, and/or climbing” rule, the android trio headed out. They were about to call a cab when someone bumped into Andy and stumbled to their knees.

“Whoa, are you alright?” Andy helped them up. It was an android, and one in bad shape. The skin on her face was half retracted, baring a brutal dent in the metal of her skull. She looked terrified, eyes darting this way and that as Andy held her steady.

“Who did this to you?” Markus asked, but the android was non-responsive. She just kept looking about in a panic.

“What’s your name?” Connor pressed, and when she still didn’t answer he reached forward with the skin of his hand retracting so he could search her memory.

Markus and Andy waited, watching Connor’s led turn yellow and his eyelids flutter, until he pulled back from the wounded android. 

“She was attacked, but I saw the people who did it,” Connor said. “She’s sustained damage to several vital functions including her short-term memory and cognitive reasoning. She’ll need repairs but once she’s fixe- … recovered, there’s someone waiting for her.”

Hank hadn’t heard from Markus in awhile, which he figured was fair, so it was a surprise when he got a call from him.

“I’m at New Jericho with an injured android. She’s been looking for her sister, it’s been sometime we figured she might have filed a missing persons report,” Markus said. 

“Fuck, speak of the devil,” Hank said, looking over to the android that was sitting nervously by his desk. “Yeah, I’m looking right at her.”

“Oh, that’s good news,” Markus said. “We’ll bring ours by the station in a few hours after her repairs are complete.”

“Alright, yeah, see you then,” Hank hung up, wondering if he should thank whatever the fuck Ra9 was for that easy fix. 

Connor hadn’t seen the police building in what felt like eons. He couldn’t help but feel a guilty sort of thrill at working a case again, not that it was much of a case but it was something. 

“You ready?” Markus asked.

“You don’t have to ask so many times,” Connor said defensively. “Let’s go in.”

The android under their care, it turned out her name was Danielle Olivaw, was already exiting the cab. 

“Is Bel in there?” she asked.

“Yes, we-” Connor was cut off as Danielle pushed past, a woman on a mission. Connor and Markus did their best to keep up as she weaved through the building dodging people left and right looking for her sister. When she saw Bel sitting at Hank’s desk she ran for her. Bel heard her coming, turned around and smiled as her sister took her into her arms in a tearful hug.

“I’m sorry it took so long, you must have been so scared,” Danielle said.

“I’m just happy you’re okay,” Bel replied, pulling back and wiping away her tears. Connor approached his computer, interfacing with it to upload the footage of the attack to evidence and requesting a patrol to search for the people responsible for the attack on Danielle. He didn’t notice the staring until Markus cleared his throat.

Connor looked up, and saw his co-workers were gaping at him. He smiled sheepishly. “Ah. Hello.”

“Welcome back, Connor,” Miller said, cracking a smile.

“Thank you, good to be back,” Connor answered.

“Great, we were finally getting that plastic smell outta here,” Reed snorted from his desk. 

“I did not miss you either, Detective Reed,” Connor retorted. Then he turned to Hank, who was still standing a bit stiffly by his desk, smirking a little at the crack at Gavin’s expense. Hank gave Connor a nod, and Connor returned it. 

Connor didn’t stay, despite wanting sorely to be back at work he knew today wasn’t the day for it. He went home with Markus to back up his things, and by the time Hank got home he was relieved to find Connor trapped under 260lbs of happy St. Bernard.

“Couldn’t even let him take off his coat, Sumo?” Hank asked, eyeing up the android and dog tangle on the floor of the living room. Sumo barked and continued licking Connor’s face.

“Hello, Hank.” Connor smiled, not bothering to fix his hair from the mess Sumo and his tongue had made of it. 

“Hello, Connor,” Hank huffed, rolling his eyes. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you,” Connor wiggled free of Sumo’s grasp, and made a futile attempt to brush dog fur off his clothes. “I’m glad to be back.”

“Hold off on that decision,” Hank said. “Night’s still young.”

“Why does the age of the night matter?” Connor asked, squinting and tossing his head to the side.

“I can never tell if you really don’t understand those or if you’re fucking with me,” Hank laughed, his laugh getting louder as Connor only looked more confused.”Damn androids.”

“Damn humans!” Connor replied, his face melting into a smirk.

Things didn’t immediately go back to normal, there was still some tension in the house that took time to fade away into familiarity. Connor did notice, however, when Hank went out for the night he came home smelling like coffee and cigarettes as opposed to whiskey. Hank didn’t tell Connor where it was he was going, but Connor was nothing if not a dedicated detective and overall snoop who found it all to easy to find the 24 hour chip Hank left tossed carelessly onto his dresser. Connor never pressed, but he did appreciate Hank was trying.


	8. Infatuation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO 
> 
> this is an unedited little snippet I planned to do more with and come back to but here's the thing is I've been taking finals and I'm dying and I haven't had time to write proper fics for people and I feel bad about it so I'm gonna drop this one here for you guys and I might come back and do it better or at least do the topic again in a different chapter but I figure you guys might be taking finals too and might need an update from your fics to get you through it I know I have
> 
> so here's this tiny shitty chapter I hope it gets you through whatever you're going through I hope to update more regularly once finals are done and I'm sleeping more than three hours a night

When Connor came into work that morning he found his desk covered with an assortment of cards and parcels in varying shades of pink and red. Confused, he did a scan of the area, revealing trace fingerprints and dna samples on some of the items, and a significant lack of fingerprints and dna on some of the others. It was multiple people then, human and android, who had left his desk in this state. But why?

“Hallmark should be paying you, fuck,” Hank snickered as he sat down. He grabbed one of the cards and gave it a once over. “This guy doesn’t even work in the building, how are they finding you?”

“What… is this?” Connor asked, gingerly pushing the items aside. Hank had already contaminated the crime scene so he might as well make space on his desk for work. 

“It’s Valentine’s Day?” Hank said. “What did your calendar crash?”

“Oh.” Connor sat down. “I see.”

He examined the gifts and cards, noting with some confusion that the main gift was chocolate. “Why did they buy me this? I don’t eat.”

“Well I do, I’ll take that,” Hank said, snatching the sweets from Connor’s hands and opening them up. “You’re real popular, how the hell did that happen?”

“I don’t know,” Connor shrugged. “I don’t talk to many other people…”

“Eh, that probably just helps,” Hank said. “Makes you look like a cool loner instead of the shut-in you actually are.”

“I go out once a week!” Connor huffed.

“Hanging with Markus doesn’t count, that’s just being in a different house with a different person you’re used to,” Hank said. “Maybe… you should go on a date with one of these people.”

“I don’t think so,” Connor said firmly, pushing the rest of the gifts aside and turning on his computer to start working. Hank shrugged and ate another chocolate. He didn’t think about the conversation for another few days, not until him and Connor stopped for coffee on their way into work and the barista tried to slip Connor her number. 

“I’m just saying you have options!” Hank said, sipping his coffee. Connor held the door for him as they arrived at work. 

“I’m not going on any dates, Hank,” Connor insisted. “Weren’t you the one that was so adamant I not see anyone?”

“That was Myra, she’s bad news,” Hank said, setting his coffee and bagel on his desk. “You stay away from Myra. I don’t think you dating is a bad idea just you dating someone so…”

Connor tilted his head curiously as Hank looked for a polite phrasing.

“... experienced… in the ways of… casual romance, is a good idea.”

“You mean you want me to find a romantic partner, but you don’t think they should be experienced in romance?” Connor asked, squinting in confusion. 

“I think you should try something new, go on a few dates, get out of the house,” Hank said. 

“It’s not going to happen, Hank,” Connor said, trying to busy himself with work. He’d almost managed to start a productive uninterrupted day when one of the interns approached and cleared his throat. 

“Uh, hey, Connor,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “Hope I’m not bothering you, but I just remembered you talking about having a dog last time we chatted and I just made a batch of treats for my sister’s dog and had a bunch left over so I thought you might want them.”

“U-uh…” Connor stammered. 

Hank looked over and was surprised to see Connor was… blushing? At least that’s what he assumed the blue tinge spreading across Connor’s face was. 

“Thank you,” Connor managed to spit out, accepting the plastic baggie the intern held out for him. 

“Cool! Anyway I’ll see you around, alright?” the intern waved with a grin, before practically bouncing away. Connor waved awkwardly back before sighing and letting his shoulders relax. When he turned back to his desk he was irritated to see Hank shooting a shit-eating grin his way.

“So that’s why you don’t wanna go on a date,” he said. “You’re shit at it.”

“You’ve had feelings your whole life I’ve only been alive a few months and deviant less than that I’m… new at this!” Connor argued weakly. “And…”

“And?” Hank prompted.

“I’ve discovered… that… people are… attractive,” Connor cleared his throat. 

“Oh shit,” Hank laughed. 

“I don’t plan on doing anything about it for the moment,” Connor said, putting the dog treats in a drawer and pulling out a case file. “I struggle enough as is with social interaction, I don’t intend to add romance or sex to the mix until I’m better at handling my emotions.”

“Sex, huh?” Hank snorted. 

“I don’t want to keep talking about this with you,” Connor flushed blue again. 


	9. Birth Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter today, my brother got me to get off my ass and update. Finals are over but I'm so burnt out I'm basically sleeping all day and playing Spyro all night. I'm gonna try to get writing more regularly now, I also have like 18 pages of some other dbh idea that I'm like unsatisfied with but still see potential for so who knows

Hank was always puzzled by how different and yet how unchanged Connor managed to be since he went all free-will. 

One minute he was a brand new living being all laughing and feeling and so confused by all the new emotions in his head that he broke down a little and needed help. Then, next minute he was a cold-blooded machine taking shots at suspects with precision aim or misunderstanding a turn of phrase. It was easier figuring him out with Markus’s help, but Hank didn’t want to just treat Connor like a deviant android he also wanted to treat him like his partner and his… family or something who’s counting?

So, sometimes, Hank put in the effort to figure Connor out without asking Markus for help. Like he was doing at the moment, when some of the guys brought out a cupcake with a candle and started singing “happy birthday” to one of the younger officers Hank had never bothered to meet. Connor was watching the display with his head at that curious tilt he always affected when his circuits were twisted. 

“Keep staring, Connor, people love that,” Hank said, tossing a file onto the organizational shelves Connor had forced him to use. 

“Sorry…” Connor turned away, blinking quickly and returning to his work.

“Must be someone’s birthday,” Hank commented. “Ah shit, wonder if they’ve got more cupcakes in the break room, I should snag some.”

“Your ability to find free food in any situation continues to impress me, Hank,” Connor said with a small smirk.

“Like you didn’t pester the hell out of Markus for cookies when he turned you onto eating,” Hank laughed. He noticed Connor still glancing at the gathering out of the corner of his eye, so he spoke up again. “Do you uh… you have a birthday?”

“I wasn’t born, Hank,” Connor reminded him unhelpfully. 

“Activation day then.”

“The first RK800 model was activated July 23rd 2038” Connor said. “The official release of the line was August 3rd 2038, and my memory was uploaded into this body November 9th 2038.”

“Right,” Hank grimaced, remembering the brand new Connor back from the dead waiting for him outside Kamski’s house. “Well those are all kinda depressing, huh? Company churning out models and you coming back from the dead… let’s pick something else.”

“Sorry?”

“For your birthday, let’s pick something else,” Hank said. “What about the day you went deviant? Kinda the first day you were really you, right?”

“I suppose,” Connor said. “But to be fair, Amanda did reveal my model was intended to go deviant, and upon reflection I had been disobeying orders far earlier into the deviant mission. While that day on the boat I did go fully deviant, I do not think I was fully machine to begin with either.”

“My head hurts, let’s just pick a day,” Hank sighed. “You pick, just point at a calendar or something.”

Connor thought about it, his LED going yellow. “Many androids have chosen November 11th for their birthdays, the day Markus won our freedom.”

“That’s great, but what are you picking?” Hank pushed. “This should be something you like or is important to you.”

Connor considered again. “I don’t see why it’s so important. Any official forms would simply require my date of activation.”

“Christ, Connor, forget it,” Hank said with a shake of his head. He went back to his work, and Connor went back to his. Hank thought that was the end of that, it wasn’t for another few days before Connor brought it up again.

“I think I would like May 8th.”

Hank looked up from his breakfast. Connor was in the living room, sitting on the couch fiddling with his coin. 

“Uh… what?” Hank asked.

“You asked when I would like my birthday to be,” Connor reminded him. “I think I’ve chosen May 8th.”

“Oh, yeah?” Hank asked. “Why’s that?”

“Well, I wanted it to be in the spring,” Connor began. “Spring is for… new beginnings, and I don’t really care for… winter. I chose the 8th because of my model: RK800.”

“May 8th, alright,” Hank said with a nod. “Sounds good. How old you gonna be, one?”

“That depends on whether you’re talking about the age of my memory or my body,” Connor said. “Either way roughly nine to ten months.”

“Jesus, I always forget you’re a fucking infant,” Hank said. “Let’s call it one. Or better yet uh…” he looked Connor over. “... how about twenty-eight?”

“Hm.” Connor looked thoughtful. “I don’t think it really matters. I mean, so long as I get a present the day is a success, right?” he winked. 

“Pft, yeah sure.” Hank rolled his eyes. Then he realized he was in fact going to have to find a present for Connor. Well, he had a month, how hard could it be?


	10. Overslept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah its finally decided as to whether or not we do relationships here  
> thanks to nonbinarydisaster on tumblr who is my muse and whose headcanon convos with me spark so many of these chapters.

_ “I don’t plan on doing anything about it for the moment,” Connor said, putting the dog treats in a drawer and pulling out a case file. “I struggle enough as is with social interaction, I don’t intend to add romance or sex to the mix until I’m better at handling my emotions.” _

Yeah, that had been the plan.

Connor kissed the man in his bed deeply, pulling his long stylish jacket away and tossing it to the floor to join the worn t-shirt Connor had been wearing as pajamas. He was sure the soft flannel pants that had once gone with it wouldn’t stay on much longer either. He may have tossed caution to the wind when it came to his… personal life, as he’d had his first kiss only a week earlier and was now about to be intimate with someone for the third time since. 

“I’m glad I stopped by,” his partner breathed happily, a smirk growing on his face.

“Shush,” Connor replied. “Don’t wake up Hank.”

“He didn’t wake up when I fell through the window,” the man in Connor’s bed teased. “Don’t think he’s gonna wake up just because I’m telling you how happy I am to see you.”

Connor snorted, thinking back on how this man had entered his room. 

He’d heard a knock at his window as he was getting ready for bed, and drawing the curtains aside had been confused but happy to see…

Markus. 

“Why are you sneaking around outside my window?” he’d asked once he’d opened the window. 

“Thought your old man might chase me off,” Markus had teased. “Can I come in?”

Connor considered the request, and found it reasonable. 

Connor considered his relationship with Markus once they’d finished, and had sleepily found themselves intertwined in Connor’s sheets and each other's arms. Connor ran a hand up and down Markus’s back as the deviant leader slowly drifted off with his head on Connor’s chest, and considered. 

It had all happened a bit by accident. Markus asked for help when a sizable amount of thirium had gone missing from New Jericho, going straight to Connor to avoid drawing too much attention to the break-in. Connor had no trouble tracing the theft to a local red ice production ring, and the resulting arrest and reclamation of the thirium had been… a touch heroic perhaps. Certainly, heroic enough that Markus had found himself pulling Connor in for a kiss after the detective took a bullet for him, like something out of a movie. 

After the initial embarrassment, and after Markus pried the bullet out of Connor’s chest and patched him up, Connor breached the subject with a blue tinge in his cheeks and genuine interest in his voice. They’d agreed to take things slow, not put a label on it, just explore.

Now Markus was asleep on Connor’s chest, and Connor couldn’t believe how… human it all felt. It could have been the deviant hunter and the deviant leader: a dramatic whirlwind romance full of pain and guilt… and to be honest Connor did still feel a lot of guilt, but their relationship so far had been nothing more than the casual encounters of two people just… seeing where things went.

“You’re thinking too loud.”

Connor was startled from his thoughts, Markus wasn’t asleep after all. He was looking up at Connor, one lazy finger lifting to touch Connor’s yellow LED. 

“Sorry,” Connor said, lifting his own hand to cover the light. “Am I keeping you up?”

“No.” Markus smiled softly, turning his hand to catch Connor’s and pull it back down. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Connor lied. 

“Must be an interesting nothing,” Markus replied, lifting himself slightly so he could press a kiss to Connor’s lips. “You should sleep. Something tells me you haven’t been doing a lot of that lately.”

“You should be the detective,” Connor shot back with a smirk. Markus laughed and offered his hand, the skin peeled back. Connor cocked his head to the side, knowing the significance of the gesture. Slowly, he repeated the motion, pressing his hand to Markus’s and feeling a shiver of connection between them. Connor fell asleep not long after, Markus using him like a pillow and snaking his arms around his chest in a comfortably tight hold. 

When Hank woke up at 9:35 without Connor leaning over him informing him that they were going to be late to work, he assumed the worst. 

Nothing, not Hell or high water stopped that damn kid from pestering him out of bed when it was time to go to work. So naturally, Hank reached for his gun and stumbled down the hallway to Connor’s room to take out whatever attacker or kidnapper had kept Connor from being an insufferable prick of an alarm clock. 

When Hank pushed the door open and saw two figures passed out under the blankets he was so shocked it took him a second to even recognize who it was laying there with Connor. He backed out of the room, closed the door, and muttered to himself: “that son of a bitch.”

The entire morning Hank complained to Sumo about it as he got ready. “I swear, I tell Connor he’s gotta get out and meet new people and he goes and fucks the one and only person besides me he hangs out with, and Markus don’t even get me started. You think a guy’s helping you with your… your… uh, android… kid I guess, and next thing you know he’s swooping in and getting lucky.”

Sumo whined in agreement, eagerly hoping Hank would drop some of the cold pizza he’d decided on for breakfast. “Well, whatta you say we let the lovebirds sleep in, huh?” Hank asked, patting Sumo’s head. “Not cause they deserve it, but because I wanna see what Connor looks like late to work, heh!”

At noon on the dot, Connor jerked upwards in bed, his internal clock informing him of just how late he’d slept in and Markus complaining sleepily against his chest informing him as to why.

“I’m late!” Connor wriggled free, falling ungracefully to the floor in a way most unbecoming of the most advanced Cyberlife prototype to date. He scrambled to his dresser, trying to find clothes as Markus wrapped himself in Connor’s blanket and approached to hug Connor from behind.

“Just call out,” he said, kissing Connor’s cheek. “You work too hard.”

“I  _ like _ work, Markus!” Connor insisted. “Get dressed, you can’t stay here.”

“Ouch, kicking me out already?” Markus chuckled.

“Yes. Get dressed.” Connor grabbed Markus’s clothes off the floor and pushed them into his arms, immune to the puppy dog eyes Markus was shooting in his direction. “Get dressed! Stop that,” he added with a giggle when Markus tried once more to worm his way into Connor’s arms.

“Alright, officer,” Markus said with a grin. “You win! Work it is.”

The pair got dressed, and Connor called a cab when he found Hank had left without him which was strange, but Connor was too busy focusing on getting to work to wonder why Hank hadn’t woken him up. Markus rode with him, intending to take the cab back to New Jericho once they’d dropped Connor off. 

“Hey, breakfast,” Markus passed Connor a pouch of thirium and stole one last kiss as Connor exited the cab. Connor felt a warmth in his chest, and he found himself lingering in the cab door for a moment, his mouth opening in a question.

“Can I see you again soon?” he asked. “We could… go out.”

The smile on Markus’s face was brighter than the sun. “I’d like that, Connor.”

With that, Connor nodding and promising to call Markus later, he ran into the building. 

Connor was about as disheveled as anyone would ever see him: one of the buttons in his shirt was left unbuttoned, his jacket was held in his arms rather than worn, his hair had been combed only by his fingers and so was still falling in loose curls around his face. These weren’t necessarily things most people would notice, but he worked with people who noticed small clues for a living and who had grown quite used to the proper android in their midst and so Connor was on the receiving end of many a curious glance and knowing chuckle as he made his way to his desk.

When he saw Hank leaning back at his desk with a smirk on his face he knew that Hank knew. He blushed, but refused to show weakness as he sat down at his desk and turned on his computer. 

“Connor! My office! Now!” Fowler shouted from the door of his office. Connor got about as pale as an android could and hurried into his office. 

Fowler let Connor sweat a moment before leaning over his desk and addressing him. “You know, Connor, since you’ve started working here you’ve never been late not one day.”

“Yes, sir,” Connor agreed. “I’m very sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“Is everything alright at home, Connor?” Fowler pushed.

“I… sir?” Connor asked.

“Maybe you think this job is a joke?” Fowler asked. 

“N-no!” Connor began to protest. “I…” and that’s when he noticed Hank’s reflection in one of the picture frames on Fowler’s desk. He looked back to Hank’s desk and saw the lieutenant waving a fifty dollar bill in Fowler’s direction, quickly tucking it away and whistling innocently when Connor turned to face him. Connor looked back at Fowler with an irritated expression. 

“Captain would you excuse me? I need to go commit a crime. The murder of my partner.”

“You’re dismissed, detective,” Fowler said, holding back his laughter with great effort. “Count yourself lucky, you could have gotten the lecture from him himself.”

Connor stormed out of Fowler’s office, thinking Hank would be the one getting the lecture. 

  
  



	11. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got a request for Connor and North bonding which is one of my favorite kinds of North bonding second maybe only to Hank and North bonding. In my head she's the big sister Connor needs and he's the little brother she feels bad for cause he's still a little awkward and rule abiding and was turned into a weapon by humans so she's made it her mission to turn him into a self-reliant person and also steal all his best moves. 
> 
> also the return of my favorite trope: give Connor a toy gun and watch him parcore around like the world's happiest assassin

Neither Hank nor Connor were used to guests.

Hank was the grouchy town drunk and Connor was a shut-in, so a knock on the door was a rarity for both of them. Upon hearing one intrude upon their otherwise uneventful Sunday afternoon, Connor and Hank exchanged a curious look.

“Jehovah’s Witnesses?” Hank speculated with a shrug. 

“Not after you scared off the last one,” Connor replied. 

“Well, whoever it is I’m not putting on pants for their sake,” Hank said, returning to his late breakfast of stale cereal. 

“I would never ask such an arduous task of you,” Connor remarked dryly, heading for the door. He opened it, wondering if perhaps it was Markus stopping by for a surprise visit when he was suddenly under attack. Connor’s reaction time was off by approximately two seconds, he blamed his newfound emotions allowing him to experience what was known as ‘ease.’

He winced for a moment, before opening his eyes and lifting a hand to peel the foam dart off his forehead. 

“... what?” he asked.

“You’re dead, deviant hunter.”

North pushed past Connor and entered the house, a Nerf pistol in one hand and a large canvas bag slung over her other shoulder. “I thought you were tougher than that. Maybe this won’t be fun. Hey, Hank.”

Hank waved as North pushed his various clutter off the coffee table and onto the floor to make room for her bag. She unzipped it and rearmed herself with a Nerf gun of a much larger size. She tossed it to Connor and grabbed another for herself. 

“What?” Connor repeated himself.

“C’mon, you could use the exercise, pajama boy,” North said, gesturing to Connor’s sweatpants and t-shirt ensemble. 

“I-I… Hank makes me wear casual clothes on our days off!” Connor insisted. North tapped her gun against her shoulder and shot Connor a look. Connor sighed and reached into the bag for his ammo. 

Hank ended up wearily finishing his breakfast, dodging wild shots and occasionally picking up the Nerf pistol North had left him with to warn the pair off whenever a dart ended up in his cereal. 

“Connor, going on the roof is cheating!” North shouted, dodging a dart and running behind the tree in Hank’s backyard. She could see Connor kneeling on the roof taking aim, and searched for her way up. She lay down some quick cover fire for herself that sent Connor ducking before running up and leaping to grab the gutter. She dragged herself up, rolling forward and shooting two more darts Connor’s way. He rolled to the side and fired another, nailing North in the forehead. 

“Ah! Shit!” North winced, stumbling backwards. Suddenly, Connor had a hand in her jacket and she realized she had one foot on the roof and the other in midair as she’d nearly fallen backwards to the ground. 

North and Connor stared at each other a moment before they both started laughing. Connor helped her back onto the roof where they both abandoned their guns and sat down. North leaned onto Connor’s shoulder, poking him where he was too stiff until he relaxed. 

“I needed to get away,” she said after a few minutes of silence. “I just needed a day where I didn’t have to think.”

“I think I understand,” Connor said. 

“You and the old man are great for not thinking.”

“... is that an insult?”

“Nah,” North sighed. “You’re such a dork, Connor.”

“Now that was an insult.”

Connor thought to himself that it had been nice spending time with North. Not just because he missed using his combat skills to their fullest and no one offered a challenge quite like North, but because she was right. It felt good to have someone you didn’t have to think with. There was no purpose in playing with toy guns, no task to accomplish, and he loved that. 

He often wondered why North had taken such an interest in him. Was it because he indulged her more aggressive nature or was it because she saw him as needing the extra help with his new deviant life? Maybe neither or both?

“What the fuck are you doing on my goddamn roof?”

North and Connor peered over the edge to see Hank standing in the front lawn, Sumo bonding around him excitedly, glaring up at them in disbelief. 

“Oh shit, busted, you’re so grounded,” North laughed, shoving Connor’s shoulder.

“He can’t yell at me if I don’t come down,” Connor replied, laying back on the roof, closing his eyes, and folding his hands over his stomach.

“I dunno about that he’s pretty loud,” North said, looking down at Hank who was indeed still yelling. 

Connor opened one eye, leaned over to grab his Nerf gun, and then sat up and took a shot at Hank. 

“Ow! Fuck! Connor you motherfucker I swear to god!”

Connor raised an eyebrow at North who was laughing so hard that if she were human she would have trouble breathing. 

“Okay, okay, seriously we should get down now,” she finally managed to say once her laughter stopped.

Connor nodded. “Would you like to come in? We could watch a movie. Hank has made it his purpose in life to educate me on the finest films of his generation.”

“Yeah, sounds good, old movie night,” North said.

“I can hear you, they’re not old movies they’re… fuck whatever, not my fault you’re all like six months old.” Hank sighed in defeat and went back into the house. North stood and offered Connor a hand up. 

“Thanks for letting me run away to your place,” she said.

“Of course,” Connor replied. “It benefits me as well.”

“Just say you had fun, dork,” North laughed, shoving him playfully again. 

They both left the roof and came inside to where Hank was pretending to be angrier than he actually was. To be honest he was a little happy about the fact that Connor had made a friend, and one he approved of! Now that was unexpected. 


End file.
